


The Hunted

by SapphireOx



Series: The Ties That Bind [1]
Category: Monster High
Genre: F/F, F/M, Horror, Interspecies Conflict, Kidnapping, Missing Persons, Murder Mystery, Paranoia, Psychological Trauma, Serial Killers, Suspense, Thriller, Torture, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2020-10-21 00:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 210,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20684417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireOx/pseuds/SapphireOx
Summary: Students are going missing at Monster High.There's no pattern, no suspects, no motive, no clues, and no end to the disappearances in sight. The town of New Salem is on edge, and as bodies start showing up and fingers are pointed, monster-human tensions grow to an all time high.As the paranoia grows and more students vanish without a trace, it is a race against the clock to protect whose left and find out who's responsible.But who could be behind such gruesome acts? What do they want?And who will be next?





	1. Prologue: The Masked Man

**Author's Note:**

> To those of my followers who are currently reading Under the Red Lights, no need to fret, I will still be writing for that series! However, I've had this idea in my head for a while and finally decided to put it in physical form. 
> 
> I am going to try and write for both this story and Red Lights intermittenly (ie, after one story gets an update, the next update will be for the other story). Fair warning, however, do expect irregular updates, since I can never be too sure of chapter lengths and therefore, depending on how much content I want to cover in a chapter and how long it takes me to write up a scene whose result I'm satisfied with, it may take quite a while for either story to receive updates. 
> 
> Otherwise, thank you for sticking with me through my other stories and taking a chance on this one. I hope you enjoy.

The first thing that registered to Lycana was pain.

Pain and cold.

She furrowed her brows, her closed lids squeezing tighter together as she groaned in discomfort. The left side of her head throbbed dully, the feeling akin to a mallet repeatedly swinging against her temple. Goosebumps broke out on her skin under her pelt as a freezing chill started to seep in through her clothes. She felt herself begin to shiver.

What had she been doing?

Where was she?

Her memory was fuzzy as she tried to think of the last thing she was doing before she’d blacked out. She could only remember glimpses at random- saying goodbye to her coworker at the ice cream shop, the darkness of the sidewalk near the park, a flash of something off to the right…

Another wave of jackhammering pain pulsed against her skull, causing her to let out another whine. Confused and disoriented to all these sensations, she finally opened her eyes.

Everything came into focus.

She froze.

Near pitch black greeted her back. Even with her night-shine activated, Lycana could barely see two feet in front of her. She could just make out a few blobby shapes resting near the corner and up on the wall of whatever room she was in. Something long rested against the wall next to her- a table or a shelf, perhaps. A small whirling sound came from above, like that of a fan. A stale scent hit her nostrils. Beyond that, it was all swallowed by the void of the dark.

Lycana tried looking around. Realizing she was sitting, she attempted to twist around in her seat, only to feel a pull of resistance. Her eyes widened.

She attempted to adjust her position. Her hands had been pulled behind her; something thick and sturdy had tied them together, keeping them restrained behind her to the back of the chair she’d been sitting in. Her calves were tied taught against the chair’s legs.

“Mmmph-!”

There was something pressed against her mouth, fusing her lips in place and preventing her from speaking.

Lycana trembled violently, and she knew it wasn’t entirely from the cold anymore.

She darted her head around in the dark, trying to find a hint of where she was.

“Mmmph!” she cried out despite the tape against her mouth, “Mmmmp! Mmmh!”

Her ears suddenly picked up on the distant sound of footsteps from somewhere outside. Lycana stiffened; her eyes looked ahead, slowly panning to the side as she heard the footsteps come closer. Their echoed seemed amplified, suggesting that beyond the strange room lay a hallway or alley.

They stopped right in front of her. Lycana stared forward, her heart racing in her chest. Her palms grew sweaty despite the cold.

She could hear the sound of a knob being turned.

The door swung open, revealing a tall shadowed figure in the doorway.

The room flooded with light. Still groggy from her slow wake up, Lycana was momentarily distracted as she shut her eyes against the harsh white glow that flooded her vision. The slam of the door in front brought her back against her oncoming migraine, however. Opening her eyes up and slowly turning her head, she finally managed to get a good look at her surroundings.

The room she was in was small and cramped, with the walls, ceiling, and floors made up of filthy white metal. Three naked bulbs flickered from the ceiling, their glass casings cracked or missing altogether. To the right, a large air conditioning unit rested against the corner between the ceiling and the wall, the three fans inside whirring dully as they spun. The rectangular shape she’d seen turned out to be a table.

Lycana’s eyes widened in horror as they landed upon the variety of hardware tools and knives that littered its surface.

Her gaze shot to the floor, which was coated in some sort of dry reddish-brown substance; the rotting smell that made her stomach churn was enough for her to guess what it was.

She lifted her head, her breath hitching as she took in the tall, dark-clad figure that stood in front of her. Her heart felt like it had skipped a beat.

His face was entirely covered, but even with his eyes hidden by the dark lenses of his bird-like mask, she thought she could sense the smile on his face.

“Aw, you’re awake. For a second, I was beginning to think I hit too hard. No fun in a brain bleed, now is there?” He asked.

His deep voice was calm and unbothered, his tone like he was merely discussing the weather. It sent chills down Lycana’s spine.

There was a glint of metal beside him. Lycana’s eyes shot down.

A muffled cry escaped her as she realized it was an aluminum baseball bat, with blood- _her _blood- still splattered against its side.

“Goodness, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the masked man said, resting the bat against the wall as he walked towards her.

Lycana whimpered and pressed herself against the back of her chair. She started to struggle against her bonds, clawing at the rope around her wrists to try and cut it.

The masked man stopped in front of her. He tilted his head as he watched her struggle, as if perplexed by her behavior. Lycana stared up at him in fear, her elbows going back and forth as she tried to pull her wrists apart.

“_Mmmhhhmhh! Mmmhhmm!” _she attempted to plead, even with the tape on her mouth preventing her from opening it.

“What is this?” the masked man asked, “No growl? No ears back? Not even a look of death? Just a cowering little pup?”

He shook his head as if disappointed. He turned away from her to the table, where his hand hovered above the various instruments.

“How pathetic,” he said, “Nothing befitting of a werewolf at all. More like a deer caught in headlights.”

He sighed, as if saddened by the statement. He then turned to her, wagging his finger.

“But alas, we can fix that,” he said, “Somewhere along the lines, that primal wolf in you is bound to come out. Just requires a few tests of the senses is all.”

He reached and grabbed something off the table.

Lycana’s hackles rose as he held it out. It was a billhook. 

She began to hyperventilate as the masked man stalked towards her. His hand came up and she flinched away. He grabbed the tape on her mouth and promptly ripped it off, earning a yelp of pain from the werewolf from the sting as the adhesive took some of her fur off.

The masked man held up the billhook and shook it excitedly.

“How about we test that howl of yours first?” he asked playfully, “See if you can hit the pitch only your fellow dogs can hear?”

He leaned down and gripped her knee and placed the blade of the billhook against her thigh.

“_NO, STOP, NO!” _Lycana screamed hysterically, “_PLEASE! GET AWAY! GET AWAY! STO-O-OP!” _

The screams continued through the night, echoing loudly outside in the empty space surrounding the small prison.

They fell on deaf ears, with not a soul around to hear them except the wild animals who knew no better.

* * *

_Three weeks later…._

The warmth of the halls of Monster High were a great relief as Frankie Stein entered the building. She shivered as her skin warmed and reached up to rub her arms.

It’d been a rather cold day, even for late autumn, and the wind had been merciless. Frankie made a beeline for her locker, opening it to look at her reflection and frowning when she saw the results.

“Man,” she grumbled at the way her hair was now all tangled, with some stray baby hairs jutting out this way and that in a true mad scientist fashion, “Good thing I brought a brush.”

Pulling said item from her purse, she undid the braids she’d originally put her hair in and started to brush the two-colored strands, trying to smooth out the locks back into a semblance of tame.

As she redid her braids, Clawdeen waltzed up to her. A deep frown marred her features as she stared down at the small pile of papers in her hand.

“You know, I know that the teachers at Belfry Prep were always rather strict and I heard that Mrs. Sangre was a harsh grader,” she said, turning the report around, “But is this amount of marking _really _appropriate?”

Frankie looked down. The science report was marked with a 76 percentage, with a variety of red X’s and little comments intertwined.

“Wow, it looks like someone spilled a blood pack on it,” she said in amusement.

Clawdeen shook her head. “Like, look at this comment,” she pointed to one in the margins, “’Satisfactory, but would use better wording so statement flows better’. Like, I’m sorry, I thought I was taking Biteology, not Dead Languages!”

Frankie smiled sympathetically. “That’s precisely why I didn’t take the advanced classes and only the necessary credits.”

“I wouldn’t even have it, but I needed at least one more science credit and Mr. D’eath said it would be better than waiting until senior year to get it done,” Clawdeen sighed.

“Could always be worse. You could’ve always taken Advanced Chemistry III and have been stuck with Moanica as a partner. Remember when she messed with the organic samples and ended up giving everyone additional hair growth?” Frankie pointed out.

Clawdeen chuckled at the memory and nodded at her. “Good point.”

They became occupied with gathering their notebooks and texts from their lockers. As they did so, Frankie could see from the mirror Howleen and Twyla walking by.

“…when my mom was collecting them, it turns out one box was missing. The moving guys said they counted out inventory inside, but it never turned up. There were a good four or five bottles in there,” Twyla narrated.

Howleen replied, “Oooh, that sucks. Did the company at least compensate you for it?”

“My parents got some money back for the cost of moving the box, but my dad was beyond it by that point. Those concoctions took quite a few months for him to brew,” Twyla said, “He says he’s just sure we’ll never use that moving company again.”

Howleen’s gaze lifted at the sight of Frankie and her sister, and she waved at them.

“Hey, sis, could I borrow some of your lip gloss?” Howleen asked, “Mine came off when I was eating and I forgot to pack an extra in my bag.”

Clawdeen raised a brow. “That depends, are you going to keep it and never give it back and let it stay trapped in your locker like last time?”

“Aren’t you glad I’m at least asking and not just stealing it like last time?” Howleen countered.

Clawdeen narrowed her eyes at her, but reached into her purse and pulled out a tube of glittery lip gloss.

“I _better _have it back before I go to practice,” she warned.

Howleen stuck her tongue out. For extra effect, she went to the mirror in Clawdeen’s locker and puckered her lips in a dramatic duck-face, putting on a thin layer before handing it back to Clawdeen.

Frankie and Twyla chuckled at the way Clawdeen rolled her eyes, knowing the exchange was in good fun overall. It was nice, seeing the Wolf sisters getting along more often than they used to when they were underclassmen.

After Howleen and Twyla left, Clawdeen and Frankie made their way to the creepateria to meet up with the rest of their group. The ghouls waved at them excitedly as they walked over, before they all gathered their things and started walking to the library together.

“So, Frankie, I heard Jackson got into the University of Wailshington,” Draculaura said excitedly.

Frankie nodded happily, “Yeah, and if they said if he accepts, he may even be able to get into a research program early! He asked me to go with him over winter break for an open house.”

“Ooh, that’s awesome!” Lagoona exclaimed, “That’s going to be nice, having some time for just the two of you.

“Yeah,” Frankie said. Suddenly, her voice took on a hint of sadness, “He also wants me to try and apply there too, so in case I get in, we’ll still be able to see each other…”

She trailed off. The others looked at her, noting her forlorn expression with slight concern.

“You don’t sound to happy about that,” Cleo pointed out.

“It’s not that, it’s just…hard for me to think about us being apart,” Frankie explained, “I mean, we’re graduating next year. We only have one more year before we go our separate ways. I don’t want to be away from Jackson and Holt, but…I don’t want to leave you guys, either.”

“I know, it’s seems like everything’s gone so fast,” Draculaura said somberly, “And some like Clawd and Gory are going to be leaving at the end of this year. We’ve gone through so much together, it’s hard to believe that one day, we won’t have this.”

“Uuughh,” Ghoulia pointed out.

“Yeah, and it’s not like once we get our degrees, we’re all just going to disappear beyond the Bourke and ghost each other,” Lagoona added, “Probably a lot of us will even go to the same schools, so we’ll run into one another if not some of our classmates.”

Frankie nodded, “I know. I just can’t believe everything will be different. You guys were my very first friends, so…I don’t know, I’m just not ready to say goodbye to that yet.”

Clawdeen reached over and grabbed her hand.

“Well, it’s a good thing that you don’t have to,” she said, “We still have this year and next, so don’t stress out just yet, all right?”

“Yes. We should focus on more important matters at the moment,” Cleo said, “…such as hopefully getting through this year without another near-death experience or psychopath trying to take over the school.”

“Agreed. I mean, is it too much to ask that I can just go to school and take a Dead Languages test without having to fight some black magic user or escaping some normie con artist trying to kidnap monsters?” Draculaura added.

The rest of the group agreed. Though some of their adventures gave them some fun experiences, such as seeing Boo York or going to Scaris, there were only so many vampire-werewolf turf wars and seasoned designers kidnapping you to use you for slave labor to steal your designs a ghoul could take.

“If anything, Frankie, let that be a testament,” Clawdeen added, “Hell, you became a living tesla coil and almost _died _at one point. I think you’ll be able to pull through us starting unlife after high school.”

Frankie smiled, “You know, you may be right.”

After all, she thought, they survived what was probably the worst of the worst for monsters. What else could go wrong?

* * *

“…and then, if you add those two numbers together and they end up equaling a number greater than ten, then you put the second digit down and carry the first digit over and add to the other number…”

The sounds of her mother’s voice were the first thing Frankie heard as she stepped through the front door. She shut it behind her and walked into the living room, smiling as she saw her mother and Alivia sitting down in front of the coffee table. Viveka pointed at various parts of the worksheet between them as she explained addition problems, while Alivia sat with her legs out in front of her, nodding eagerly.

“So how about this one?” Viveka pointed to one problem, “Eighteen plus sixteen. What do you do?”

“You add the eight and the six,” Alivia answered, “Which gets you…fourteen?”

Viveka nodded, “Good. And then what do you do?”

“Um, you bring the ten part over?” she said, unsure. At Viveka’s nod, she continued, “Then you add it to the first one, which gives you two.”

“And then what do you do?”

“You…add the other ten,” Alivia replied after a minute, “Which gives you three. So altogether, you get…thirt-thirty-four!”

Viveka smiled, “Exactly! Good job!”

She petted Alivia’s hair affectionately, while the small green ghoul giggled and smiled gracefully. Seeming to notice Frankie’s presence, Viveka turned and smiled at her eldest daughter.

“Hello, darling. How did practice go today?” she asked.

Frankie walked over to the coffee table and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “It went good. Cleo was a tyrant, as usual.”

Viveka smiled in sympathy. Alivia turned to her older sister and dug into her folder, pulling out a piece of notebook paper that had random words listed on it. At the top was a gold star sticker with NICE JOB! scribbled across it in blue marker.

“Look, Frankie! I got a hundred on my spelling test!” she exclaimed.

Frankie smiled, “Wow, great job! You’re really getting the hang of these!”

Alivia beamed, proud of being able to impress her older sister. “Mrs. Greenteeth says if I keep it up, I’ll be sure to ace the spelling bee!”

“That’s awesome!” Frankie declared, “You’re sure to blow everyone away! Just make sure it’s not with your bolts, okay?”

Alivia giggled at the insinuation. Viveka smiled, enjoying the interaction between the two ghouls. Frankie then bid them goodbye and made her way to her dad’s lab to greet him.

It was good to see Alivia was settling in so well, Frankie thought, especially considering the circumstances that had landed her in the Stein household. At first, she’d been shy and rather withdrawn from both Frankie and her parents; understandable, considering she was given up by her creators. Luckily, though, with time and patience, she’d started to warm up to them. Although, Frankie thought with amusement, it didn’t seem they weren’t going to change her indifference to any science any time soon.

She went down to the lab to greet her father, before climbing the stairs to head to her room.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour, dear,” Viveka called from the kitchen.

“Okay,” Frankie answered back.

In her room, she sat down at her desk and opened her chemistry textbook to start on her homework. She was in the middle of balancing redox some reactions when her phone suddenly buzzed next to her with an alert. Frankie glanced at the screen.

_Breaking: Body of Missing Teen Found in Building_

Frankie’s eyes widened. Curious, she slid the screen to open up the news app. The update stated that the report was coming in somewhere in Wailshington.

_Police say that they have recently recovered the remains of a werewolf woman who went missing in early September. _

_Twenty-one-year-old Lycana Wilde was reported missing last month after her roommates say she failed to return home from her nightly shift at their local ice cream parlors and she did not respond to their calls or texts after several hours. Lycana’s purse was later found in a nearby park, along the path she’d said to walk home every day. _

_The discovery was made by a construction crew in a condemned restaurant. The building was subject to demolition and during an inspection, contractors came upon the gruesome scene in a walk-in freezer. _

_The sheriff’s office reports that they have yet to determine a cause of death, but that foul play is being suspected and that an investigation is currently underway. _

_“We have to find who is responsible or their reasoning for committing such heinous violence,” Chief Gruff McHound stated, “But we are going to do whatever we can. Her and her family are owed that much.”_

The article ended with a phone number and a statement to call it for anyone who may have had any clues or knowledge of the crime.

What a horrible thing to have to see, Frankie thought. She couldn’t imagine what those men had felt, to just do their jobs and have to be the ones to stumble upon something like that. A pang of pity also went through her for the girl’s family. Only twenty-one? Who could’ve done such a thing? A shiver went through her just thinking about it.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted, however, by the sound of a booming noise. She jumped in her seat.

“_Aw, Gigawatt, no!” _Viktor yelled, “_Alivia, this is specifically why I told you to keep him in his cage!” _

_“I’m sorry!” _Alivia whined, “_It didn’t seem fair to keep him in there. I thought he’d want to play with Watzit!” _

Frankie texted her mom. _Is everything ok? _

_Mom: Don’t expect toast for the next few days. Giggawatt chewed straight through the wire again -_-_

Frankie couldn’t help but giggle. Putting her bookmark in her notes, she went downstairs to help her parents assess the damage, quickly forgetting about the headline she’d been reading.

* * *

_Elsewhere…._

Solly leaned back in his chair and stretched. He groaned as he felt his shoulders pop, the stiffness in his neck and back aching like he’d been lying in a tomb for a thousand years. He knew he was for sure going to pay for it in the morning.

Sitting upright again, he glanced at the clock, sputtering as he saw the time.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered at how late it was. He was only planning on staying at the office for about an hour or so, but with all the paperwork he had due, he’d quickly lost track of time.

And he _still _wasn’t done. Solly looked at the pile of white that still filled up his ‘to-do’ basket. It was times like this he resented caving into his father and taking a hand in the family business. Sure, it was a little fun, watching people get competitive as they tried to raise their bids, but the never-ending paperwork was one of the reasons he stirred away from continuing the tradition in the first place.

But his head assured him it was one way he’d be secure and never have to worry about working for nobody else, and since he always like money and being in charge, Solly agreed.

Whatever. Nothing he could do about it now. He was in charge now, so he’d either have to suck it up or sell it, and Solly knew the old man would rise straight out of the grave and haunt him if he did such a thing.

Rubbing his eyes, Solly yawned as he decided to call it a rest. He shut down his computer and put his pen away, resolving to just try and get it all done in the morning. The damn creditors couldn’t harp on him for being only a day late now, could they?

He gathered up his coat and keys and stood up, pushing his chair in and making his way to the door.

Right as he was about to lock up his office, something dashed out of the corner of his eye.

Solly looked down the end of the hallway. Not a thing was out of place. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned back, trying to catch a glimpse of the space on the other side of the filing cabinets that lined the walls.

When he couldn’t see anything, Solly shrugged. Probably just a trick of the light. He turned back to door and his key ring.

Just as he finished locking the door, he heard a sound behind him. Solly turned.

Still, there was nothing. The window in front of him was dark, the frosted glass and light outside preventing from seeing anything.

Solly turned around. He took a step back against the door.

It was probably nothing, he told himself. Just a wild animal or a vehicle along the road. That, or he’d had too much to drink during his visit to the minibar.

There was a creak at the end of the hallway. Solly whipped to the side, eyeing the left side.

Now, he could see a few papers atop one of the filing cabinets fluttering, like something had brushed past them.

Solly gripped his keys tightly. A trickle of uneasy started to go through him. He gripped the door handle to his office, remembering the spare crowbar he kept under his desk.

“Look, if there’s anyone there, I suggest you show your ass to the door before I call the cops,” he warned loudly, “And believe me, I’m not above roughing intruders up a bit.”

He started heading towards the direction of where he heard the creak.

He suddenly jumped as a loud crash sounded from inside the office. Solly stared at the window into the darkened space.

Fumbling with his keys, he shoved one back and unlocked the door and flung it open, switching the lights back on. His eyes darted around the small room frantically, trying to locate the source of the noise, before they landed upon the floor.

The globe and vintage auto-shop signs he had resting on one of the shelves had been knocked down. Papers had been scattered out, floating down like snowflakes.

Solly looked at the windows. There was no sign of forced entrance- they were still closed and had the blinds drawn exactly like he’d left them a few minutes ago. The vent was still bolted in place; if they tried to crawl through, they would’ve crashed through the ceiling. Solly looked under the desk; it was slightly raised, allowing to see anything that had been crouching by the far side. Nothing.

It was as if nobody was even here.

Solly swallowed hard. He took a step back, fear now starting to grab a hold in his chest. The edge of his keys dug into his fingers painfully as he held them in a white knuckle grip, but he just barely took notice.

There was breath on the back of his neck.

Solly froze. He stood there for a few seconds, just feeling the warm, heavy air on his skin. He could faintly hear them start to growl.

He whipped around, his eyes going wide as he gazed upon the monstrous figure in front of him.

The figure snarled and grabbed him by the neck. Solly gasped as his airway was cut off, thrashing as he was lifted and thrown back into the office.

He crashed into the desk. It overturned on its side, sending all the items on its surface flying and crashing to the floor. Solly yelled out in pain as his back collided with the edge.

He had no time to recover before the figure was suddenly on him, a quick gleam of metal flashing in the light before it was brought down upon him.

“_AAAAAAAH! OOOOH GOD! STOOOOOOP! AAAAAAAAARFGGGH!” _he screamed.

Blood splattered everywhere.

The screams echoed down the hallway.

Then, suddenly, they stopped completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia: Lycana Wilde was a name that Mattel trademarked in 2015, shortly before Silvi's name was as well. Presumably, she would've been a new character introduced, but the trademark was eventually abandoned in 2017.


	2. Chapter 1: Like Any Other Day

Frankie ran the paint roller over the last blank spot on the wall, disguising the worn white over a fine layer of dark blue. Once she felt that she had applied enough, she leaned back and put a hand on her lower back, groaning as she stretched to try and relieve the ache that had formed from sitting in her hunched over position for so long.

Once she felt relaxed enough, she let out a breath and glanced up at the wall, mentally patting herself on the back for her work. It was a long, arduous process of painting the room that she was told would be a guest room- what, with taping down all the baseboards so they wouldn’t catch any stray strokes, dispersing the paint into the trays without spilling it, and having to constantly step on and off the chair she had to reach every nook and cranny- but luckily, there weren’t too many complications to getting the job done (besides when she spilled half the paint can on her leg and had to waddle to the bathroom to scrub it all off without dripping onto the carpet or floor).

She glanced at her watch. “Yes,” she whispered to herself, seeing she had even managed to get done twenty minutes earlier than she planned.

Satisfied with her work, Frankie put the paint roller back in the tray and stood up, dusting off her pants before she turned and left the room, making her way towards the stairs. As she went down, she looked around the corner into the kitchen, where the house’s owner sat at the kitchen island, pouring over documents.

“Mr. Amerou?” Frankie called out.

The cryptid at the kitchen island looked up. The deep lines furrowed into his large brow lightened as he caught sight of the construct in the walkway, replaced with a big grin that came onto his bearded mouth.

“Aw, Frankie!” he exclaimed, getting up from the island, “Finished already?”

“Yeah,” Frankie smiled, pulling off the bandana she’d worn to keep any stray hairs back, “I thought I was going to take longer, but once I got all the paint out and started applying it, everything just started going smoothly!”

Mr. Amerou nodded as he walked around the counter to grab his wallet. “Well, you keep up that pace, and I might be able to finish renovating by the year’s end.”

He fished out four twenties and held them out to her. As Frankie took them, he leaned in.

“Just make sure you’re not getting high off all those chemicals,” he joked, “Or else your parents may come after me for turning their poor daughter into a junkie.”

Frankie chuckled, “Don’t worry, I prefer the straight-edge lifestyle.”

Mr. Amerou laughed, “Why, I hope someone your age would be!”

After he calmed down, he asked, “Would you like something to drink before you go?”

Frankie nodded and waited at the island while he grabbed a glass and made his way to the fridge.

“I must say, I am impressed,” Mr. Amerou said with his back to her, “I don’t think I’d even be able to do all this as quickly as you have. I thought for sure I’d need at least two people to do all this.”

Frankie shrugged, “Well, what can I say, when I get in the zone, everything passes by in a flash.”

“And of that, I’m glad,” the old cryptid said as he poured her some fruit punch, “I can only imagine how much time and money I’ve saved by hiring you local kids. And to think I was about to take that frumpy old lady’s advice and spend hundreds on so-called professionals.”

His face scrunched up in a pout at the thought, causing Frankie to giggle at his expression. He quickly smiled back at her and handed her the glass. As she took it from him, Frankie heard the faint scrape of his claws against the hard material, and glanced down at them, noting the largeness of his hands.

Mr. Amerou was a nice man, to say the least. He’d moved into the neighborhood a few months ago and met her when she was out taking Watzit for a walk. As it turned out, he’d become a recent patient of her father’s as well, allowing him to recognize her from the few conversations the men had had during his check-ups. Though a bit loud and with a tendency to go off on tangents in conversations, he was always kind to Frankie and was always one for small talk. He’d even approached her with the offer of a temporary job of helping him renovate his home- nothing too complicated, just to help him repaint and set up some furniture, once a week for eighty dollars- so she had nothing to complain about.

He was also a bit of mystery when it came to his species; the spots that dotted his face and ran through the thick ginger hair covering his body suggested he was some kind of werecat, but his thick, broad build and slightly pointed snout hinted more at a lycanthropic ancestry. He also had tusks, though, which were often befitting a yeti or a bunyip. Frankie theorized he was probably a hybrid, or possibly even a unique cryptid species she hadn’t heard of yet. Not that it was a big deal of what monster he was, only that she found it interesting.

“So, I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay for a little longer for maybe an extra twenty dollars?” Mr. Amerou suggested, nodding towards a box resting up against the wall that was printed with the picture of a dresser, “Just so these old bones don’t have to assemble a big piece by themselves?”

Frankie smiled apologetically and shook her head. “Sorry, Mr. A,” she said, “But I had already made plans for tonight when I got done today. Maybe next week, if it’s not set up by then.”

“Oh, no worries, dear,” Mr. Amerou said, “I know you kids like to live it up as much as you can before you dry up and become like us tired old farts.”

Laughing at his language, Frankie gathered up her bag and phone before allowing him to lead her to the front door. As Mr. Amerou held it open for her, he nodded at her.

“Well, you have a good weekend, Frankie,” he bid, “Don’t get too wild out there, you hear me?”

Frankie smirked. “Oh, I’ll be sure to only cause a blackout to the town and not the state.”

“Attaghoul.”

She gave him a small wave goodbye and made her way down the porch. As she turned the corner and started heading down the street, she felt her phone buzz in the pocket of her paint-smeared overalls. Pulling it out, she smiled as she read the message on the screen.

_Jackson: Guess whose dad just gave him the keys to use his truck??? :D_

Frankie texted back, _Clawesome! R u allowed it for the whole night? _

_Jackson: Yeah, just as long as Holt isn’t allowed to drive it. He still hasn’t forgotten the incident with our uncle’s Mustang :P_

_Frankie: Don’t worry I wouldn’t trust him to drive anyway lol_

_Jackson: Try telling him that -_-_

Frankie giggled and sent a kissy face emoji in reply, before sliding her phone back into her pocket. She picked up the pace as she made it back to her house, where she stripped out of her paint-stained clothes and showered to wash off any of the remaining stink.

She slipped on a blue and yellow dress and some simple black heels and did her hair and makeup, her phone pinging right as she was putting the finishing touches on her eyeshadow. Smiling as she saw the notification was from Jackson, letting her know he was here, she grabbed her purse and gave Watzit a quick pet goodbye, before she made her way down the stairs. She gave her mother and Alivia a quick farewell as well as she passed them, before she stepped onto the front porch.

Her bolts gave a small spark of excitement as she walked to the car, opening the door to find her bright-eyed boyfriend looking back at her.

“Hey, there handsome,” she joked, “Looking to get _electrified?”_

Jackson grinned, “Depends. What’s your offer?”

Frankie giggled and slipped into the passenger seat, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. They sat with their hands laced together as Jackson drove, both happy for the weekend to finally be here so they could spend some time together. The week had proved to be a busy one, with them swamped with tests, reports, and post-graduation stuff to work on, so it had left with them with little time to hang out at all.

They all the way to the edge of town, where Jackson made a left at the light to the human side of town. The car pulled up to the curb and parked in front of a small little café that was nestled between two other businesses. From her window, Frankie could see three familiar faces gathered outside.

Clair had her feet up on the seat with her knees drawn close to her, the combination of her fuzzy black sweater dress and black and white striped tights making her look like a giant roll of black licorice. She had one eyebrow raised in a look of doubt as she listened to Chad tell a story that seemed to be very dramatic from the way he was waving his hands. Lilith sat in between them, looking back and forth between them like she was amused by the brunette.

Their attention turned to the car as Jackson and Frankie got out. Clair’s wine-painted lips quirked up in a small smile as she nodded to acknowledge them as they approached.

“Finally, you’re here,” she said as they sat down, “Chad was in the middle of telling us about his family reunion from this summer. I was about ready to fall asleep.”

“Oh come on, it’s funny!” Chad insisted, “Like at this one point, my uncle took me and my cousins fishing, and we caught, like, five trouts-!”

“_Yaaaaawwwn,_” Clair interrupted, opening her mouth wide in a dramatic O-shape that earned her laughs from Jackson and Frankie. Lilith held a hand to her mouth to hide her smile while Chad shot them all a withered glare.

Frankie gave him a sympathetic look. “Well, I would like to hear these stories sometime, Chad.”

The human teen’s eyes instantly brightened at her. Clair and Lilith both shot her looks that said _Please don’t encourage him_. Jackson shook his head in amusement.

“Anyway,” Clair changed the subject and turned to face them, “Any idea on where we’re gonna go eat? Because frankly, I’m starving.”

They discussed what everyone was in the mood for and brought up possible suggestions, before settling on a burger place situated at the edge of the human mall. They garnered some strange looks from other people as they walked through the plaza- most of them were directed towards Frankie, many obviously surprised to see a monster having the gull to walk through _their _territory with not a care in the world, but Clair also got a fair share as some ogled her dark makeup- though they ignored it for the most part.

“You’d think they’d just seen aliens from Mars land, with how long they’ve been staring,” Clair muttered once they were seated and their food had come, pointing at something to the right with her fry.

Frankie turned to look over her shoulder. She just briefly met the various eyes of a group of boys who were looking in their direction, before the latter group before the quickly looked away, flustered. She just smiled, amused by their attempts to try and seem subtle as they ogled her.

“I barely notice it anymore,” Jackson said, “After so many years of sticking out, the pointing becomes almost like background noise.”

“That’s a sad observation to be made,” Clair said. She looked back at the boys- all of which now hunched over, clearly trying (and failing) to act natural while continuing to sneak glances at Frankie and Jackson. Shrugging, she turned back to Frankie, a small grin on her face.

“Maybe I should transfer to your school,” she said to her, lacing her fingers together, “I’m already a bit spooky with the way I dress. I’d like to think I’m already halfway to fitting in with your kind of crowd.”

Lilith replied, “I don’t know, Chad seems like he’d be better suited. God knows his fashion sense certainly is a monster in the closet.”

“Oi!” Chad exclaimed.

The rest of them burst out laughing. Lilith shot him a sweet smile while he glowered at her. He obviously didn’t seem to take the comment seriously, though, as he quickly melted in laughs along with them. As they calmed down, Frankie turned back to Clair and spoke up.

“You know, I was talking to Bloodgood today about that, actually,” she said with a smile, “She said her and the superintendent are actually in negotiations for the possibility of transfer students between the schools.”

Clair raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how’s that going?”

Frankie’s good mood didn’t last. She glanced down at her soda with a pouted, before she put her elbows on the table to rest her cheeks against her hands.

“’Slow’ is the best she would describe it to me,” she said, “She says that they’re been trying to set it up, but they keep getting pushed back by parents on the city council on both the monster and human sides.

“It’s just ridiculous,” she continued, “So many of them want to it down completely, and nothing has even happened yet!”

Clair shrugged, “That’s humanity for ya. Or, everyone in our town, at least.”

“It’s just something we have to expect,” Jackson said, “Monster and humans have only been coexisting for only a couple hundred years, after all. Hell, only within the last century have most monster schools begun integrating to accept students outside of a select few species. And to some degree, their worries are reasonable- not all, but it’s understandable some of them are cautious, considering how violently people have reacted to interactions between such species in the past.

He smirked as he added, “I should know. I have the near-death experience to go along with it. Right, Lil?”

Lilith recoiled, as if she’d been slapped. Jackson immediately regretted the comment, realizing how it sounded.

“Lilith,” he turned to her, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine,” she cut him off, “I…I deserved that.”

Jackson opened his mouth to try and apologize, but she shook her head at him. “Honestly, Jackson, it’s fine. It’s just…you just reminded me of some news I got today.”

Everyone looked in her direction, curious. Lilith shifted in her seat; she suddenly looked uncomfortable, her eyes turned down towards the table as if she were afraid to make eye contact and her hands fiddling with her straw. Frankie felt bad, not meaning to put her on the spot like this.

Finally, Lilith took a deep breath and raised her head, her eyes going to both Jackson and Frankie as she looked them deep in their eyes.

“I just want you two to know I’m telling you this because I think you of all people have the first right to know,” she said sternly, “I’m not trying to cause trouble, but I think you and your friends would be more comfortable if you heard it upfront instead of on the news or something.”

“What…what is it?” Frankie asked. Her hands clenched on the strap of purse as she suddenly felt nervous. Jackson furrowed his brows in concern at the blonde, looking equally worried.

Lilith looked between them for a second, before she finally sighed and gave her confession.

“My uncle is going to be unstoned in a few days,” she said.

They stared at her in stunned shock. Frankie’s mouth dropped open, while Jackson’s eyes went so wide his pupils looked like mere pin pricks against their whites. Clair and Chad glanced at them, before they turned back to Lilith.

As the weight of the blonde’s statement settled on her, Frankie felt a pit open up in her stomach. Her mouth suddenly felt dry. It took her a moment to realize her heart had started to beat faster, as if she had received a fresh electric shock. An unexpected shiver went through her- one not due to the cold of the restaurant.

Finally, Jackson broke the silence that had settled over them.

“H-How?” he questioned, “W-When? Last time I checked him and Crabgrass were still…you know…petrified?”

Lilith explained, “A few months ago, my parents obtained a court order that pretty much said that by law, your school was keeping my uncle hostage and that since his will says my dad is to have power of attorney should anything happen to him, they were to hand him over immediately.

“It took a while, since they had to obtain enough gorgon powder and wait until the moon was right, but they did, and you know the new moon’s in a couple of days…” she trailed off, letting the inference hang in the air.

The good mood of their group had suddenly been sucked out, leaving them all in a tense quiet. The rest of the restaurant’s patrons continued on around them, oblivious to the bombshell that had just been dropped on the two monsters sitting in the booth.

“…Why…why are you telling us this?” Frankie asked.

Lilith leveled her gaze with her. “Because I thought you deserved to be one of the first people to know. You had upfront personal experience with him and you were the one to figure out something was up.” 

“He had a whole collection of wards against monsters to fight against them,” Jackson pointed out, looking at her warily, “If he still has any of those…”

“He doesn’t. Not anymore,” Lilith said, “His position on the Council of Monster-Human Relations has been removed, and per their orders they confiscated all his documents and artifacts. He has next to nothing at this point.”

“He’s also got a whole town of pissed off monster parents to deal with if he tries anything,” Clair pointed out, “Not to imply you guys are savages or anything, but if your dad is anything like mine, the second that dude tries to step within even two miles of your school, he’s dead meat.”

“And everyone probably knows his face by now,” Chad added, “And if any of the town werewolves have his scent, they’ll easily be able to smell him out.”

“You’d think that, but Crabgrass was able to go weeks posing as the principal without nearly anyone noticing,” Jackson argued.

“Crabgrass also used a very rare powder that all identifying senses to be twisted into who she was posing as,” Lilith said, “And my uncle was one of only five people to have possession to it until the Council took it away.”

“So, what’s going to happen to him, then, once he’s turned back?” Frankie asked her, “He’s not going to stay in Salem, is he?”

Lilith sighed and leaned back against the seat. “I don’t know what he’s going to do. I overheard my dad say he found him a job, so maybe he’ll take that and move all the way to the other side of the world. But until he’s actually flesh again, it’s all up in the air.”

The tension that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife. Frankie looked down at her food, having now lost her appetite. Lilith’s words kept repeating in her head, like she was having a hard time trying to process the exact information.

She didn’t doubt that the school wouldn’t be caught off guard like they were last time and would be on the lookout once word got out Van Hellscream was free, but what if he did try to do something after all? He came from a long line of monster hunters, who was to say he didn’t have connections, or try to send someone else to do his dirty work? After all, that same school year they had the whole situation with Farnum and Andy. What if there were others they kept in contact with who now had their eye on Monster High to try and finish up their dirty work?

Clair must’ve sensed her unease, because she put a hand on her shoulder and spoke to her sternly.

“He won’t be able to pull off what he did the last time,” she assured her, “His reputation is in shambles and you and everyone at your school knows what he’s capable of. He won’t be able to slip under the radar so easily.”

“And if he does, you guys won’t have to deal with it alone this time,” Chad spoke up, “You have us now to back you up if anything goes down!”

Clair smirked, “Yeah. And believe me, I know quite a few people who would love to get a few licks in on creepy old men who want to complain about having the right to be a bigot.”

Frankie smiled. Their support did work to make her feel slightly better.

“Will you tells us when it happens?” Jackson asked Lilith, “The whole reversal and whatever plans he comes up with once the process is over, I mean?”

Lilith nodded, “I may not be able to get every single detail- something tells me we’re going to be a bit…_estranged _for a while when he finds out about my change in viewpoints- but I’ll try to keep you updated.”

“Good. At least with what we know, we may be able to form a plan if he does try to start drama again,” Jackson said.

Clair looked at Frankie and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“It’ll be okay, Frankie,” she said, “Besides, he’s been out of the loop for a year in stone. He’ll probably be too stiff to even walk for a while.”

Frankie chuckled at the thought, “I’d only hope so.”

With that, they tried to their conversation in a happier direction. Though her mood did get better, there was a lingering worry in Frankie’s mind as she thought back to Van Hellscream. She tried to tell herself that was always the possibility nothing was going to come of his unstoning- maybe Clair was right and he would just silently sulk over his failure to ignite another race war while he went on with his life- but another part of her remained cautious. With all the experiences her and her friends had had throughout high school with suspicious persons, she’d learned to trust her gut whenever she experienced even the tiniest feeling something wasn’t right.

There was also a third part of her, though, that was just annoyed.

_Couldn’t this whole thing have waited until at least after I graduated? _She groaned internally.

Whatever gods of resurrection or luck or whatever influenced unlife were up there, her family must’ve really done something to anger them, because she swore that she could not _once _catch a break.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the maul, Clawdeen and Lagoona weaved in and out of clothing racks in one of the upper level department stores, grabbing various items that caught their eye and making a beeline for the dressing room to try them on.

“How about this one?” Lagoona asked as she stepped out from behind the door, holding her arms out to show the detail of the light blue sequin romper she had on. Clawdeen turned away from the gold silk blouse she’d been admiring to analyze her outfit, a satisfied smirk coming on to her plump lips as she nodded in approval.

“Oooh, definitely that one over the spaghetti strap,” she said, “It really brings out the blue in your skin.”

Lagoona looked down at the romper, “Ya think so? I was thinking when I saw it I could pair it with my pearl necklace and those seashell bangles I showed you, but then I was afraid it’d look too similar to my scale color. Nothing more of a burro than showin’ up like I’m in the nuddy, is there?”

“No, it looks great!” Clawdeen insisted, “And if you put a few braids in your hair and pair them off with that nice shell-comb you wore to the homecoming dance, it’ll look totally furrific!”

That made the sea monster blush. She looked back down at the romper, now decided on the romper for sure. After she’d gone back to the changing room and put her regular clothes back on, they headed over to the jewelry counter to sift through the various pieces.

“Thanks for comin’ with me tonight at last minute, ‘Deen,” Lagoona said as she looked through some necklaces, “I really wanted a fresh outfit for me and Gil’s date tomorrow, but Lorna suddenly got a crook and I didn’t want to come here alone.”

“Well, you know I’m always up for some shopping,” Clawdeen said, looking into the mirror on the counter to try on some drop earrings, “Especially when it comes to helping my best ghoul with some ideas for the perfect anniversary outfit.”

She turned to Lagoona with a smirk, “Speaking of which, I hope Gil is planning on going above and beyond for this one.”

Lagoona clasped her hands together, a dreamy smile on her face as she looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, he’s got the most wicked plan! He bought us tickets to the aquarium’s light show, and before that he got us a reservation at the Barracuda! And then he says he has a surprised for me afterward!”

“Damn, extra fancy then,” Clawdeen commented, “Well, he better. Most people our age can barely stay together for two weeks, let alone over a year.”

“I know,” Lagoona said, sighing contently, “Crikey, I can’t believe it’s been two years already. It feels like only yesterday I was bringin’ him to meet my ‘rents for the first time.”

Clawdeen touched her arm in support. “Well, you deserve it, Blue. Especially with all you’ve been through together.”

Her face suddenly turned serious, and she stepped back to cross her arms. “Speaking of parents, how have his been taking his acceptance letter?”

The smile quickly disappeared off Lagoona’s face. The corners of her lips turned downward in a pout, along with her eyes as she looked at the seahorse earrings in her hand. Her shoulders dropped as she sighed.

“Still not happy with it. Still think he’s only going because of me. And of course, they still think it’s going to end in disaster because of me,” she said.

She looked back up at Clawdeen and shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not gonna spit a dummy over it. They can think what they like, but as long as Gil still wants me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s the spirit,” Clawdeen said.

They turned their attention back to shopping. Lagoona grabbed some rings off the shelf and held them out to Clawdeen to show her the colors, the latter offering up her thoughts on which color was best, before she did the same and held up a few pairs of earrings to see which ones went best with her eyes.

After they were satisfied with their choices, they decided to take a look at the makeup counter for fun and browse the latest palettes that hit the shelves.

“So heard you talking to Mr. D’eath outside his office,” Lagoona said as she swatched some eyeshadow on the back of her hands, “You still thinking about studying business?”

“Yeah,” Clawdeen said, taking a tissue from her purse and wiping off the lipstick she’d tried on, “I got a scholarship offer from UC Barkley recently and he was telling me how I should look into their programs in management or entrepreneurship, since I’ll not only get more direct pointers on what to keep in mind if I ever get around to having my own shop but it’ll also be more practical in education level. He told me the problem with directly studying fashion is just that a lot of schools have poor resources in terms of networking events and that many of the qualifying positions easily get oversaturated.”

“UC Barkley?” Lagoona asked, looking up at her, “I thought you were aiming for trying for State in Boo York, so you could try and minor in their fashion program?”

Clawdeen explained, “I did, but UC gives me the chance to get some distance without being too far away. I mean, I know I talk a lot about getting out of this small town, but I still want to be able to see you ghouls and my family without having to spend a fortune on plane tickets. Plus I know Pawla and Barker want me to stay close, so maybe this could help them feel like it’s not so long distance, you know?”

Lagoona smirked, “Don’t let Draculaura hear you say that. You say long distance and she’ll be thinking you want to stay close for a boyfriend.”

It was meant to be a joke, but to her surprise, Clawdeen looked away, with an uncharacteristically bashful look in her eyes. Her cheeks went red. Lagoona’s eyes widened in realization.

“You mean, you have a…” she trailed off.

Clawdeen went redder. In a small voice, she mumbled, “M-Maybe…”

That shocked Lagoona further. A beat of silence passed between them as the revelation sunk in, Clawdeen looking a bit uncomfortable as she shifted on her feet and Lagoona just staring at her. Finally, the sea monster spoke up.

“Do…do I know him?” she asked.

“You might,” Clawdeen replied vaguely.

She made a ploy to not look her blonde friend in the eyes as she did so, seemingly reluctant to say anymore. However, Lagoona watched as her gaze slid to the entrance of the department store, where something caused her head to raise slightly. Lagoona turned her head and tried to follow the direction where she was looking, where her eyes landed upon a familiar face.

Romulus stood near one of the food stands, chatting with a few guys that she recognized from the casketball team. He was gesturing in the right direction, and one of his eyebrows was raised inquisitively as him and his friend- a shorter ginger-haired wolfman with blue eyes whose name escaped her- seemed to discuss where to go.

Lagoona watched them for a few seconds, before her gaze slowly slid back to Clawdeen. The brown she-wolf continued to look in their direction with a faraway look in her eyes; it was then that Lagoona noticed the blush on her cheeks was still there.

Something clicked in her head. Lagoona’s eyes widened, before slowly, a mischievous grin crept onto her freckled features.

“Why, Clawdeen,” she said teasingly, leaning in slightly, “I’m gobsmacked! I would’ve never have guessed!”

The shy look immediately was swept off Clawdeen’s face. She turned to face the sea monster, her eyes bright with warning.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

“What? I’m just surprised, is all!” Lagoona joked, “After all, who would’ve known you had such fine taste?”

“Blue, I’m warning you-“

“Not that I can be too surprised with him, though. He’s cute, he’s a nice bloke, and you two do look good together-“

“Lagoona!” Clawdeen growled in frustration, burying her face in her hands as her face lit up with embarrassment. Lagoona giggled at her reaction. She calmed down shortly afterward and put a hand on Clawdeen’s shoulder; the werewolf giving her a pout of irritation as she looked up.

“You know I’m just muckin’ around with you, mate,” she said, “As long as you’re happy and he treats ya right, then it’s all jake with me.”

Clawdeen smiled warmly, touched by the showing of support.

“I am happy,” she said, “I really am. Just, please don’t tell the ghouls. Rom and I have been going slowly with this and neither of us are ready for everyone to know.”

Lagoona nodded in understanding. “Your secret is safe with me.”

They finished looked at the testing samples a bit longer, trying on various shades and seeing how well each looked on them. As they reapplied their own makeup, Clawdeen added, “By the way, I’m not choosing UC just to be close to him, if that was the impression I gave off. I was already considering it, and Romulus just happened to get accepted into their history program, so I figured if there was a chance we could both get where we want without being too far apart…”

She gestured with her hands, letting the last part hang in the air. Lagoona nodded, understanding where the werewolf was coming from. She knew first-hand how taxing long-distance relationships could be- it was hard when you were so far apart from one another, only getting to be close by phone calls or texts, and even than those were affected by possible changes in time zones and class schedules.

It’d been one of the reasons why it was a relief that by coincidence, both her and Gil had been considering, and eventually got accepted, into Goregon State for their respective fields of interest.

“Well, whatever happens, I hope it works out for the best for you two,” she said.

Clawdeen smiled, “Thanks, Blue. I appreciate it.” 

“And I know the gils certainly will be there to offer up advice, once you come forward about your little liasion,” the sea monster quipped, “_Especially _Draculaura.”

That earned her a groan from Clawdeen. “Oh, don’t remind me! I’m already dreading all the sappy stuff she’s bound to come up with. ‘Oh, Clawdeen, we should totes do a double date! ‘Oh, Clawdeen, it’s just like Cupid said on her show!’”

Lagoona laughed at the impression Clawdeen did of their petite vampire friend. Clawdeen shook her head, her fanged lips pursing in a grimace- as if Draculaura wasn’t invested enough in her love life, she knew this would only make her nag Clawdeen for every single detail like it was unlife or death.

She shook the thought from her head. That talk was a whole other subject for another day. Turning back to Lagoona, she held up the clothes and jewelry she was carrying.

“Nevermind that, though,” she said, “How ‘bout we go pay for all of this and then you and me find somewhere to eat?”

“You totally read my mind,” Lagoona answered.

They shared a playful grin as they made their way to the register, both leaving the store in equally good spirits.

* * *

Something was wrong.

River knew that the second she felt the little tingle on the back of her neck. It was one that immediately made her bones rattle and her skin prickle out in goosebumps, like she was shivering. It was as if someone had dripped ice cold water down her back. It was a feeling that came very rarely for now- for she was still a trainee- but one that she knew would only get stronger and more frequent with age, especially once she became an official reaper and took up the mantle like her father.

Someone was going to die soon.

And very soon.

She paused and took the lollipop out of her mouth, before raising it to look around the maul. All around her, couples and families bustled to and from restaurant stands, carrying trays of food or garbage or shopping bags and conversing with one another, all oblivious to the macabre knowledge the young reaper had just obtained.

So many faces, so much innocence in them.

And one, or many, or possibly even everyone here was going to lose that. River swallowed hard.

She hadn’t no idea who, yet, and no idea when or how. All she knew for now was that it was going to happen.

Times like this she really hated being a reaper.

“Oi, Rive, ye alright there?”

The feel of a hand on her shoulder broke her from her thoughts. She looked to the side; Vandala sat next to her, the latter’s brow creased as she regarded the blue haired girl with slight worry. Sirena sat on Vandala’s other side, leaning in to look at River with curiosity.

River put on her best smile and nodded. “Oh, yeah, just fine! Just got a little distracted thinking about homework, is all.”

Deep down inside, however, the feeling of impending doom fluttered around in her stomach like a lepidopterarium. Like the butterfly of chaos itself had made a home in her and was beating its wings with extra ferocity.

She would ignore it, for now. But she would keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

Maybe that way, when that day came, she could at least try and minimize the damage that was sure to come after disaster finally struck.

* * *

He looked out on the field, watching as various groups of students walked onto and around it, gathering in small groups. They looked like they were at practice for various sports, all of them dressed to some degree in workout clothes and carrying water bottles. A group of boys sat around the benches, putting on cleats and shoulder pads, while a group of girls stood off on the track doing stretches.

They all were so ignorant, laughing and gossiping without a care in the world. To them, it was just another day, where they’d practice, then go home and do their schoolwork and hang out until they went to bed, then rise the next morning for school. They had no reason to think otherwise. Just a bunch of teenagers going about their lives.

It was going to be _heavenly _ripping it all away from them.

He looked behind him, noting the various tools and supplies he had stored in the back of the car. He made a mental list of the things he had left to do; he just needed to buy a few more things from the store and move some equipment around, and then he’d be ready.

Then he could finally have his fun.

Repressing the urge to grin, he instead reached over and pulled the hardcover book that’d been there out from under the sweatshirt he’d hidden it under. It was a yearbook from the high school’s previous term, one he’d stolen from the older sister of the little sylph he’d babysat earlier in the week.

Grabbing a marker from his glove box, he flipped open the yearbook to the page that marked the student body of the previous year’s junior and sophomore class. Several of the student pictures were circled in red.

Running his fingers across the various names, he glanced back up at the field. He recognized some of the teens out there right now from the yearbook.

Some of them were at the very top of his list.

Grinning, he uncapped the marker and circled a few more pictures, adding some notes on his plans for them as a reminder.

Oh, yes. It was all coming together so nicely.

Just a few more days. He smirked darkly.

Then, he’d be unstoppable. They would never know what hit them. They wouldn't know who to look for. 

And if he played his cards right, they never would.


	3. Chapter 2: Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you to all those who’ve taken the time to read and stick around after the first chapter! The story’s already reached over a hundred hits and eight kudos! It means a lot to me!

Far too quickly for most students’ liking, the weekend quickly came and went and Monday morning rolled around with the nerve wracking promise of a busy week, as midterms and due dates for the first projects of the semester lingered just around the corner.

The bright fall sunshine was a contrast to the moods of many, as students approached the front entrance with the typical forlorn expressions of those who were not ready for their weekend relaxation to be over. Others bustled in small groups as they engaged in gossip, while others sat against the wall or at the front tables and dozed off, trying to get some last-minute rest.

Abbey made her way through the halls to her locker, barely paying the rest of the student body any mind. Dressed in her usual outfit of fur, sweater, and leggings, she preoccupied herself with a list of what she needed to get done today once school was over as she took out notebooks.

As she zipped up her backpack, she felt a sudden warmth at her back, like that given off by a radiator.

“Well, well, there’s my favorite snowflake,” a familiar voice said, “How’s about I help walk you to homeroom and we can get cozied up with one another on the way?”

Abbey smirked, turning around to face the voice’s owner. 

“Am not little ghoul, Heath, do not need to be led by hand,” she said, though she held up her hand anyway, “But thank you for offer.”

“Oh, you know I only want to give my lady the princess treatment like she deserves,” Heath said as he took her hand, their fingers intertwining as they began to walk the halls together.

“Am no princess,” Abbey replied.

“Okay, daughter of a village chief. But you know, that technically makes you royalty on a local level, so it still counts,” Heath joked.

Abbey smiled. She had to admit, she’d been impressed with Heath’s behavior over the last few weeks. Since the two had made their relationship official back in August, she could see the fire elemental had truly been making an effort in their relationship, steadily becoming more of a better listener and restraining himself from his daily attention-grabbing antics. While a few habits had proven to be a bit harder to break than others- she had a feeling his spontaneous combustions were there to stay- Abbey did appreciate his attempts.

“You sure you’re up for Study Howl?” Heath asked as they approached the classroom in question, “We could always ditch and go someplace wickedly cooler, if you want.”

Abbey rolled her eyes. “Study just as important as regular class with teacher, Heath. Is not good to be ‘prancing out’ just because lessons not fun. Not to mention hall moanitor is sure to catch you.”

“I know, babe, I’m just teasing,” Heath reassured. He smiled at her and brought both of them to a halt as he suddenly stopped. Abbey turned to him in confusion, watching as he swung his backpack around to his front and unzipped it to dig for something.

“That reminds me! I wanted to show you something,” he said as he pulled out a stapled packet from a folder.

He beamed and held it up to her. Abbey looked down at it as she took it from his hands; the title printed at the top said it was a test from Mr. Hack’s class. At the top, there was a scour of eighty-three out of hundred marked at the top.

“I know I said that tutoring was more boring than watching a vampire in hibernation, but that session we did at the library really helped a lot,” he said, “I even got five points higher than the class average.”

“That is great, Heath!” Abbey smiled at him proudly, “Told you that you can do well if you just apply yourself.”

Heath blushed sheepishly, a genuine smile coming onto his face. “Well, I have to give most of the credit to you. You were the one who was willing to put up with me when I made you stay up late to help me get practice problems done.”

Abbey shook her head, “Only helped you get critical concepts across. Rest was all you. Can do much more if you just put as much effort into class as you do trying to impress ghouls who not into you.”

“Hey, I can’t help that the ladies want a taste of the Heathster,” he joked, flexing his muscles. He grinned as Abbey rolled her eyes in slight annoyance.

“Although, I figured it was about time I started getting more serious with my grades, now that we’re almost seniors,” he added, “That, and my mom threatened to char my behind if I brought home any more F’s on my report card.”

As they made their way to the History of the Undead classroom, Heath put his hands in his pockets, marveling at the various posters that hung on the walls.

“It just really makes you think, you know?” he said, “We’re almost done. Just one more year and we’ll be out of here and having to do adult stuff.”

That made Abbey raise her head, curious. The look on his face was a soft, faraway one that came very rarely, a deep contrast to his usual boyish grin.

She held his hand. “Have given any thought to plans after we done?” she asked.

Heath shrugged, “Some, but I’m not sure. My parents want me to go to school, but I’d rather not have to have homework for four more years. Plus, I don’t really know what I want to do. Maybe I’ll go to trade school or do an apprenticeship- something I can get some hands-on experience with. You?”

Abbey nodded in understanding. “Also undecided. Know Mama and Papa want me to take chances not available in mountains and get degree. But I think they also starting to grow unoccupied home-syndrome since brother moved out and partly want me to return to mountains. I have been looking into various schools; have considered maybe pursuing something about math.”

“And..and how do you feel about it?” Heath asked, “About returning to the mountains, I mean?”

She looked at him, surprised at the sudden shyness in his voice. He was looking down at his shoes as he rubbed the back of his neck. Her eyes widened; there was a hint of fear lacing his words, another question unspoken that was hidden behind the initial question.

_Do you **want **to leave? _was what he wanted to say. And from his hesitance, he was scared of the answer being yes. Abbey smiled softly; he was already thinking ahead when it came to their relationship. It was rather cute. And touching, if she were honest. He was really dedicated to them working out.

She reached up and cupped Heath’s cheek. He slowly trailed his eyes back up to meet hers.

“I do for some time, but also have grown to love Salem. Will not be leaving here so readily once I get diploma,” she reassured him, “Do not worry, Heath. Do not plan on leaving any time soon.”

Heath smiled at her, reaching up to lay his hand over hers. His palm felt like the inside of a fireplace compared to her freezing skin. She could see the silent thanks in his eyes.

They jumped slightly as the shrill sound of the bell suddenly rung out. Abbey looked up at the digital clock, catching the time as the other students around them bustled past, their paces now hurried as they beelined for their first classes.

Abbey looked back at Heath and nodded, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Must go to homeroom now,” she said, “Will meet up with you at lunchtime.”

“Lookin’ forward to it, babe,” Heath said. He leaned forward to give her a peck of his own, and they squeezed each other’s hands before Abbey let go and headed to the door of the class.

She stood right in the doorway as a sudden thought came to her. Before she entered the classroom, she whipped around and called out to Heath.

“And do not fall asleep in Dismembered Arts again!” she shouted.

Heath yelled back, “I’ll make sure I’ll have sweet dreams of you!”

“Heath, no!”

She dropped her hand as he turned around and went ahead to his class. She shook her head, though a smile marked her pink-tinted lips as she watched him go.

He was ridiculous. And it only made her happier to know he was hers.

* * *

“He-e-e-y, look, that truck the construction dudes are using as a ramp on the back. How much you wanna bet-“

“No.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll only be a-“

“_No, _Rider,” Gigi cut him off, “You don’t need to be getting another detention when the week has just started, especially when you’re supposed to be helping me with our science project after school.”

Rider pouted but muttered a ‘fine’ as he wheeled himself alongside her. The two of them and Howleen walked along the track, all of them dressed in gym clothes coordinated in the school colors. Coach Igor had let the gym class onto the field for what he called a “freebie” day, where the students were allowed to play whatever games or do whatever workouts they felt like, on the condition that they had to be doing some sort of physical activity.

“Yeah, Rider,” Howleen replied with a grin, “Besides, remember what happened last time, when you blew out? Save yourself from looking like a total clown in front of everyone.”

“Speak for yourself, Mardi Gras,” Rider joked, nodding her hairstyle.

Gigi held back a giggle at the way Howleen pouted at him. The interesting triad of neon purple, seafoam green, and bright yellow box braids that the younger wolf had chosen to style her curls for that week certainly made her stand out like a will-o-the-wisp in a dark room, but, Gigi thought, for Howleen, it worked; it was so…_her. _Much more than the straight pink she had it at the beginning of the year.

“Don’t you have a pacer test to make up with Coach Igor anyway, _Finnegan?_” Howleen shot back at the merman.

“Oh, you know I wouldn’t miss out on a chance to test my wheels. Not to mention fang out with my favorite ghoul,” Rider responded, sliding an arm around Gigi’s waist. Gigi smiled and put her arm over his shoulders, leaning into his side.

Howleen smirked. “Yeah, right. You probably just wanted to get a chance to ogle at all the ghouls in here and fantasize about how they look in the locker room.”

Rider replied, “I’ll have you know there’s only one ghoul I’ve fantasized about how she looks in the locker room.”

Gigi’s face went bright red. “R-Rider!”

She smacked his shoulder, her eyes wide with horror. Rider grinned up at the genie cheekily.

“Aw, don’t be so shy, babe!” he said, “It’s not like I haven’t already seen it all-“

“_Rider!” _

Howleen sputtered, before she doubled over with laughter. Gigi glared at her boyfriend, her fists balled and her normally pink-tinged skin now almost the same dark shade as her hair. Rider just grinned back at her, clearly enjoying her reaction.

“Okay, that’s way more info about you two than I ever needed to know,” Howleen remarked, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it,” Rider chuckled.

“Oh my ghoul_,” _Gigi said in exasperation, burying her face in her hands in embarrassment.

Howleen gave him a look. “Ride, the day I ever fantasize about _you _is the day I bathe in liquid silver.”

“So you _have_!”

He pushed his wheels back as Howleen reached forward to give him a smack on the side of his head. It quickly devolved into a small chase, Rider pushing his heels in a circle around Gigi as Howleen lunged after him, attempting to get a hit in. Gigi raised her head, watching the two with a grimace, though as they stopped and fell into a fit of laughter, she found her own set of giggles coming after her.

“Jerk,” Howleen replied when she finally calmed down.

Rider gave her a thumbs up. “You know you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“_Rrowww, _you guys shouldn’t be talking like that at school of all places,” a familiar voice said from behind them, “What would Headmistress Bloodgood think if she overheard you talking about such provocative subjects?”

The three monsters immediately tensed up. Howleen turned to see Toralei and the twins approaching them, the three of them dressed in the school’s gym uniform as well. Howleen frowned as they came up to them, her fists balling on instinct. Gigi and Rider stared at the trio warily.

“Nice hair,” Toralei commented with a smirk as she observed the younger wolf’s braids, “You heading down to New Goreleans for the weekend or something?”

Howleen narrowed her eyes. “What do you want, Toralei?”

“Relax, Wolf, I’m not here to stir anything with you,” the orange werecat answered.

“That would be a first,” Rider muttered. Gigi gave him a slight nudge with her elbow as Toralei gave him a slight pout. She chose to ignore it, though, as she turned back to Howleen.

“Anyway, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” she said.

Howleen raised an eyebrow at her. She crossed her arms. “Go on.”

“Well, me and the twins have been giving it some thought, and well,” she brushed a striped piece of hair behind her ear, “We want to call a truce.”

Howleen blinked. She stared at the werecats for a second, dumbfounded by Toralei’s statement.

“A…truce?” she repeated.

“You heard me,” Toralei said as held up her hands in a placating manner, “I’m done with it. All of it. No more pranks or sabotaging sports or causing a ruckus.”

The three monsters stared at her with shock. Gigi and Rider shared a look, unsure of what to make of the situation. Howleen narrowed her eyes at the older girl, her hackles raising as a defensive air came about her.

“Okay, what is this really about?” she questioned, “This supposed to be another one of your tricks?”

“No tricks, just me extending the olive branch,” Toralei said. 

“But, why though?” Gigi asked, “No offense, but you’ve never really been one to mean things when you say them.”

Toralei replied, “Because I’ve realized this whole shit that’s been going on with all of us is getting old. The truth is, the more I’ve thought about how people have treated me because of the stuff I’ve done, the more I realized…well, it sucks.

“I know I only have myself to blame for my reputation, but it really does blow when everyone treats you like a leper because they think you’re always up to something, or you’re just talking to them ‘cause you want to use them for your own means,” she explained.

She looked Howleen in the eye. “I don’t want to graduate and have people remember me as only ‘the mean girl’. I’m trying to do better; I know you probably won’t believe me, but I am.”

“So, you want to try and turn over a new leaf?” Gigi commented.

“Yes,” Toralei said, “I’m…I’m sorry. About everything- all the shitty things I did. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Meowlody spoke up.

“Me too,” Purrsephone repeated.

That certainly caught them all by surprise. Never would they have imagined that _Toralei Stripe _of all people would actually be standing in front of them, apologizing of her own free will. It was almost enough to make Howleen’s jaw drop.

Instead, her brows knit together and she put her hands on her hips, staring down at the older ailuranthrope.

“Does this mean you’re gonna stop messing with my sister?” she asked, “You and I have had our problems, but that doesn’t compare to the amount of shit you put her and her friends through. They need an apology more than I do.”

“I know, I’ve already talked to them,” Toralei said.

“And you know…o-oh, you have?” A retort was already on her tongue, but the werecat’s admission caught Howleen off guard. Clawdeen hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort happening. Unless this whole thing with Toralei had just begun today…

“We know you probably don’t believe us, and we understand that,” Meowlody said, “But if it’s of any comfort to you, we do mean it.”

Howleen didn’t know how to respond to that. Her very first instinct was to shoot the three of them down- after all, what reason did she have to take any of them at their words? She knew Toralei had been an absolute pain to Clawdeen ever since the two were freshman, and her experiences with the werecat once she started high school hadn’t been all too pleasant either.

Yet, as she looked at them, she strangely couldn’t find any shred of the mischief that was normally present in Toralei’s deep green eyes. A part of her wanted to argue that that could’ve just been due to her getting better at lying- after all, Toralei was in the drama club- but she pushed it down, knowing in her heart that that was just her wanting to be petty.

“Oh…um, well okay,” she finally said, shoving her hands in the pockets of her gym shorts, “Well, um, thank you, Toralei. I’ll…consider it.”

Toralei nodded. “I don’t expect everyone to suddenly come welcoming me with open arms, but…well, I figured the least I can do.”

With that, her and the twins turned away from the trio and started walking back towards the doors of the school where the locker rooms lay. Howleen watched their backs, still astonished by the conversation that had just taken place.

“Did...did Toralei Stripe actually just apologize to us?” Rider said after a minute’s silence, glancing between the girls.

“_And _her friends, too,” Howleen said, “I’m halfway tempted to believe they got replaced with some doppelgangers or something. I mean, after all this time of raising hell and making almost the whole school miserable, and then all of a sudden they decide they want to hang it all up? What gives?”

“Well, she did say she realized how it was affecting how other people perceived her,” Gigi pointed out, “Maybe she just finally understood how much her behavior had hurt people and didn’t want that to be her lasting impression.”

“Because it was finally starting to affect her?” Howleen replied, “Sounds like kinda a selfish reason to want to change, doesn’t it?”

“Some people don’t realize the depth of their actions,” Gigi refuted softly, “Some act out because they’re hurting and unconsciously spring that hurt they suffered onto others; it may sound selfish, but a lot of the time, they don’t actually want to be toxic, but don’t actually see how they’re contributing to that toxicity until others reflect that back onto them.”

Howleen and Rider looked at her. She stared out at the field with a faraway look in her eyes, like she was lost in thought. It didn’t take much for them to figure out she was talking about Whisp.

Howleen gave it some thought. Clawdeen had told her that Toralei did seem really regretful on how she had ended up humiliating Lagoona with the whole incident with them going to the Great Scarrier Reef. And Toralei _had _lightened up the last few months; Howleen hadn’t heard of an incident with her recently, and when she did pull the occasional prank, from the sounds of it, it had been more on the lighthearted side, like the kind Invisibilly would pull.

Mulling it over, she finally shrugged. “Aw, what the hell. If it means she’s gonna stop wrecking our crap and clothes, then I’m all for it.”

She lifted her head up, a smile on her face. “Now, how about we have a little-“

Something darted just right outside her line of sight.

Howleen paused and looked off to the right. Her brows knit together with confusion as her eyes narrowed.

Noting how she had suddenly cut herself off, Rider and Gigi looked up at her. They turned around to try and follow her gaze to where she’d been staring off at something beyond the fence, near the trees that rested along the sidewalks near the front of the school.

Howleen craned her neck, searching the shade. She swore there was someone standing there, right out of sight behind the thicket near one of the houses…

“Leena?” Gigi’s voice broke her concentration.

She glanced back at them and blinked, realizing she probably looked like she was staring off into space.

“You okay, there?” Rider asked.

Howleen glanced over her shoulder back at the bushes. “Um, yeah. Sorry, just thought…thought I saw something for a second…”

She stared at the bushes for a second. For a moment, she thought she could make out a figure standing behind one of the thick trunks of one of the trees, but as she blinked, it was quickly gone. It seemed more like her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Pushing it out of her mind, she turned back to her friends and smiled.

“Whatever, probably just the need for water getting to me. As I was saying,” she grinned at them, “How about we have a little race, just so the Coach can see that we’re ‘clearly’ exercising like we’re supposed to? Last one to the locker rooms is a rotten corpse flower?”

Rider’s eyes immediately lit up at the mention of a race. Gigi smirked in return, a playful glint in her eye.

“You’re on,” she accepted.

“Oh, yeah!” Rider exclaimed, grabbing a hold of his wheels, “I am so gonna leave you two in the dust!”

“Don’t be sure of yourself, Wake,” Howleen bit back playfully, “We werewolves are known to be able to outride even the fastest cars. Now, GO!”

The three friends immediately took off for the locker rooms, dashing (or in Rider’s case, wheeling himself) madly as fast as they could. The other students on the field continued to go about their business, not paying any mind to their activities or the brief moment of suspicion experienced by the younger Wolf sister.

* * *

The small little room that was normally used as the woodshop was hardly appropriate for storing rolls of fabric and sewing needles, and the fact that most of the space was taken up by work tables and saws easily made it crowded, but the fashion club made it work the best they could. It was at least preferable to having to meet in the creepateria and awkwardly having to work while the custodians cleaned around them.

Wydowna wrinkled her nose in concentration as she focused on the chest piece before her. She had a few pins scattered about it to hold it in place on a thing of tulle, of which was draped across a torso she’d lay on the table. Using her middle set of arms, she carefully began removing the pins to hand stitch the lace onto the tulle. Her lower set of arms held the fabric on the mannequin so it wouldn’t slide off.

With her upper right arm, she held up the comic book that she was using as a reference, eyeing the picture of the character who she was basing her design off of. This outfit she was designing was going to be a bit of a challenge for her- she’d never put together an outfit with this much detail or stitching as the one she was currently looking at. She had to be extra careful with placement and stitching if it was ever going to turn out even remotely similar to how she’d envisioned it in her head.

Turning her attention back to the mannequin, she worked quickly as she threaded the needle through the tulle and sewed the lace to it, being mindful to get every edge so that nothing risked rising up and tearing later. She held the sewing pins in her upper left hand as she quickly removed them and replaced them with the needle and thread.

“What you doing over there, Wydowna?” Clawdeen asked, walking up to look over the spider’s shoulder.

Wydowna paused in her work to look at her. She gestured to the dress, “I’m trying to make sure this lace stays on this tulle I’m planning on using for a dress. I thought maybe if I got the design on before putting the rest of the dress together, it would give me a better indication on what alterations I could make so everything stretches properly.”

Clawdeen observed the lace design, her eyes widening in amazement at the intricate pattern that made up the silk. “Whoa, that stitching looks like it’d take forever. Did you make this yourself?”

Wydowna smiled and nodded. “I’m basing the whole thing off of this one character- Belladonna Blackwood- from this graphic novel called _Knights of Lunari_. See?”

She held up the comic for her to see. Clawdeen eyed the page page it’d been open to, taking in all the little details of the dress that the dryad priestess character was wearing. She nodded in understanding, glancing at the tool to see that the lace design was the same as that on the collarbone area of the dryad’s dress.

“Wow, you got everything down to a T,” she commented, “So, you making like a cosplay or something?”

Wydowna twirled a piece of hair around her finger. “Well, what I was thinking something more so along the lines of a modern spin; not quite a full recreation, but something with enough homage that at a convention, people could spot it. Kind of like a bit of a call-back without being a full on costume.”

Her lower right hand grabbed her sketchbook off the table next to her and flipped it open to the page that she had the dress’s design on, holding it so Clawdeen could have a look.

Clawdeen smiled, “Hey, that’s pretty clever! It kind of reminds me of those lookbook videos I find on Frighttube of people basing their outfits around Game of Bones characters.”

Wydowna nodded, “That’s what I was going for. Subtle enough that I could wear it to something like bonecoming, but not too plain that people wouldn’t give it a second glance.”

She leaned to the right to look at the table where Clawdeen’s sketchbook lay. “What are you working on?”

Clawdeen shrugged, “Just doing some experimental sketches with some fabrics I found at the crafts store. Thinking about what items I have and what theoretical outfits I could make with pieces I could make with them.”

She flipped hers open to a page that had a square of furry light green and lavender material taped to it, while a sketch of a girl wearing a fuzzy bolero jacket of the same colors was drawn on the opposite page.

“Oooh, I like that one,” Wydowna pointed to one sketch of a ghoul dressed in a cardigan that was modeled after a strip of purple constellation print cloth, “It reminds me something Gigi would wear.”

“That’s what I was thinking!” Clawdeen smirked, “The second I saw it, I immediately thought: gold shorts, rhinestone tights, and a black top, and BAM! Drop dead gorgeous!”

They shared a giggle, before they went back to their individual projects. The rest of the fashion club worked around them in quiet. Wydowna resumed sewing on the lace piece onto the tulle, her hands pulling the thread through and neatly stitching it into place. Without missing a beat, she transferred the pins to her lower hands, which then stuck them back into the pin cushion on her lower right wrist, while her upper hands began taking measurements of the satin she was going to use for the dress.

Then, out of nowhere, a sudden shiver came over her.

Wydowna stopped. She looked up; nobody seemed to notice her, everyone focused on their own little projects. She looked out the window that overlooked the parking lot. Save for the cars parked there and the occasional squirrel that ran by, it was devoid of any unlife.

Shaking her head, Wydowna looked back down. _That was weird, _she thought.

The last few days, she’d been getting the strangest feeling; it would come over at random hours with no explanation. It was one she’d gotten before, like whenever she wore a shirt whose fandom someone recognized or she’d been drawing and someone took interest in her art. Like she was being watched.

_Probably just someone who didn’t want me to notice in case they thought I took it the wrong way_, she rationalized. She was no stranger to _that _kind of attention after all- even six hands wasn’t enough to count the times her and her mother had been gawked at because people who apparently had no manners thought they had the right to look and point at someone like they were in a zoo or circus.

That, or she’d been imagining the whole thing. Wydowna put a hand to her temple; she probably was just pushing herself to the limits again, as usual. She hadn’t gotten very good sleep the night before, either, so maybe the tiredness was starting to mess with her.

Shrugging it off, Wydowna went back to her work.

Nothing that a nap and a snack once she got home couldn’t fix.

* * *

The minute Draculaura saw the smile on Iris’ face, she knew something good had gone down.

Her bow-shaped lips turned up into a fanged smile as she slowly crept up on the cyclops; Iris, who was staring off into space, a dreamy expression on her green features, was oblivious to the petite vampire’s presence as she absentmindedly doodled in her notebook.

“That look tells me that you got something juicy last night,” Laura said as she came up behind her; Iris jumped and twisted in her seat.

“L-Lala!” she exclaimed, putting a hand to her chest, “Oh my stars, you scared me!”

“Sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice you look like Aphrodite put you under her spell,” Draculaura said, leaning in close to her with a grin, “So spill.”

Iris blushed, “Well, w-w-what makes you think anything happened?”

“You have that twinkle in your eye that every ghoul here gets when either she loses her virginity or when her boyfriend gives her a promise ring,” Laura said, “So which one is it?”

“N-Neither!” Iris refuted, “Manny was just really sweet this time, that’s all!”

The soft smile returned her face as she thought back to her recent date. “We went to the planetarium, where they had this really cool VR program on exploring the solar system that was as if we were actually traveling to them. Manny fell asleep in the middle of it, but it was actually really cute.

“Then, after dinner, he took me out to the edge of the city, to this hill; there wasn’t much light pollution, so there were _so _many stars we were able to see,” she narrated, “We spent a good two hours or so just lying on the roof of his car, and he listened while I pointed out the constellations to him. Then we just held each other and dozed while we listened to the crickets. It was so romantic…”

She sighed happily, recalling the feeling of absolute bliss she felt as Manny held her close, the faint sound of his heartbeat a soft, soothing melody to her ears as she rested against his chest. Draculaura’s smile softened, able to see the affection in the cyclops’s dark green eye.

It seemed a thought came to Iris, as she suddenly glanced at Laura shyly before looking away, the blush returning to her cheeks.

“And…w-we may have made out a little afterward…” she mumbled.

She hunched her shoulders up in embarrassment as Draculaura immediately lit up at the comment.

“Oooooh! Saucy!” Laura exclaimed. Iris lowered her head, clearly regretting indulging the petite girl.

However, Draculaura quickly calmed down. She rested her cheek in her palm and gave the cyclops a friendly smile.

“I’m glad to hear that you guys are doing better,” she said, “I admit, for a while, especially after that whole disaster at the back to school dance, I thought you guys were going to be done for good.”

“Yeah, that was bad, wasn’t it?” Iris winced at the memory of that incident, “To be honest, for the first few days, I thought we were too. But then Manny and I finally had a sit down, and we just kinda talked about all the issues we were having. We even had a few sessions with this dragon therapist my mom knows for the ones that were a key driving force in all our arguments.”

She looked sheepishly at Draculaura. “Not even out of high school and already we need couples therapy. Pretty pathetic, ain’t it?”

“It’s not pathetic,” Laura refuted, “You two realized you weren’t able to solve whatever problems you were having on your own and you sought a professional to help you deal with them in a healthier, more effective manner. That’s actually very mature of you. Did it help?”

Iris nodded, “A lot, actually. She helped me on how to be firmer and more open about talking to Manny whenever something he says or does bother me, and she gave Manny some exercises to better help articulate what he’s saying before he just flies right off the handle.”

She smirked, “It also turns out I can be pretty sharp-tongued when I’m angry. As he can attest to.”

Draculaura giggled, “Clawd could probably say the same thing.”

Iris smiled, “So, what about you two anyway? You guys do anything extra ‘spicy’ this weekend?”

Laura wrinkled her nose, “If you could call spending most of it being stuck in a plane ‘spicy’. WSU was having an open house, so we went down there to get a feel of the campus. We figured flying would be more convenient than spending most of the day driving, but then there was some awful turbulence so our flight was delayed two hours, and then we had to spend most of yesterday in the airport.”

A small tinge of sadness hit her. _And before I know it, we’re going to have to do it again, only this time I won’t be going with him, _she thought; her friends were lucky that all their boyfriends were in their graduating class. She’d be the only one going through her senior year without her manster by her side.

She dismissed the thought. She could be a sad little serpent about it when the time came. Now, though, she was focused on spending as much time with Clawd as she could and getting into a good school herself.

“But, it was a lot of fun,” she added as she turned to Iris, “We went to the Scarehaven Historic District and a lot of the food was good.”

“That’s good to hear,” Iris said.

They chatted about the trip and other things they’d done since Friday, before they settled down as the AP History of the Undead teacher came into the room and started class.

Draculaura stared ahead as she tried her best to keep up with the lesson, but as boredom started to set in, she let her eyes wander to the side to spare a quick glance out the window.

A few feet away from the drop-off zone, an old blue car stood against the curb. It looked like a Pontiac of some sorts, an old one with a tiny pair of headlights under the wide grill and the hood extending out way past the bumper.

A mix of dark tinted windows and the angle of the sunlight made her unable to see who was sitting in the driver’s seat. She could just barely make out the sight of a hand on the steering wheel, but other than that the driver was a mystery.

Draculaura frowned as she stared at the vehicle. There was no sign of anyone getting out of it, and as the minutes went by it seemed unlikely that this was just a parent waiting for their kid for an appointment. The driver just sat there, like they were a mannequin.

The wheels began to turn, before she watched it slowly ease off the curb and begin to drift by the school. Laura followed it with her eyes- it crawled along the asphalt, like whoever was driving it was trying to get a good look at the school as they did so and didn’t want to risk crashing.

The glare of the sun off the car’s chrome plated windows prevented her from looking through the windows, but weirdly, for the briefest moment, Draculaura could’ve sworn that they were staring right at her.

“Now, who could tell me what goals King Eberron was trying to achieve in providing aid to the Pricolici rebels during the War of the Blood Moon?” Mr. Ailfriend asked.

Draculaura’s attention snapped back to the front of the room. Realizing she’d become distracted, she flipped through the pages of her textbook, trying to catch up on the subject at hand as Iris and several other students raised their hands to answer.

By the time she’d finished skimming the page and looked back out the window, the car was long gone.

* * *

_A few nights later…_

Finally, everything was set up and ready to go.

It had been a long, agonizing wait, these past few days. He’d been halfway tempted to just go ahead with it at the beginning of the week and snatch up one of the girls on the track team as they did team runs around the neighborhood, but he forced himself to be patient. A project like this required him to consider every move carefully, lest he let one stupid mistake ruin him before he could even get to the fun ones.

But now, _now _it had all led up to this moment.

Everything was in place. Now, he could _finally _do what he’d spent the last four months preparing for.

His eyes stared out like a hawk’s from behind the glass lens of his mask as he watched them from across the road. He had stayed low in the bushes, making sure everything about his person was covered by shadow and tree branch.

The three teenage monsters had their backs turned to him as they gathered up their things and put them into the trunk of a car that must’ve belonged to one of them. A vampire, a harpy, and a panther werecat. They were all dressed in running clothes and windbreakers that had reflective material sewn onto it; they’d had just gotten done with a group run, from the looks of it.

His ears twitched as he listened to their conversation.

“…thinking if it’s not too late, that maybe we’d stop by Growlver’s for some early breakfast,” the vampire said to the harpy, “If you maybe wanted to join us.”

He watched the harpy shake her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d better get back as soon as I can. My mom hates when I stay out too late.”

“No problem, Harper,” the panther boy said, “We can always just drop you off.”

He put his hand into the pocket of his jacket; his smile was immediately replaced with a look of shock, before he exclaimed, “Aw, crap! I think I left my phone on the bench! I thought I’d forgotten something.”

“Really, Moorey?” the vampire scolded, “I literally _told _you right before we left to check your pockets.”

“I know, I know,” the panther said, “Just give me a second and I’ll go get it.”

He handed the vampire the keys before he started to head back towards the trail of the park they’d just run out of. The girls shook their heads, but opened the doors of the car and slid in.

_Gotcha, _He thought to himself.

Feeling for the little blue hourglass that rested just under the collar of his shoulder cape, he made sure it was snug against his neck, before he focused on the shadows of the trees where the panther was heading.

The early sunset of the autumn evening provided the perfect cover for him as he melted into them and reappeared just a few feet from the panther. The thick, hundred-year-old oak easily hid his figure as he peaked out and watched the latter bend down to a bench and pick up his iCoffin from its seat. The panther’s eyes glowed bright green from his night vision.

Slowly, He slid back behind the oak.

The panther had just turned his back as He rose up from the shadow of the tree behind the bench.

He reached into the satchel at his waist and pulled out the necessary items. The panther’s iCoffin screen lit up; he had bent his head, presumably checking any texts he received.

Slowly, He walked out from behind the bench. His boots made not even a patter on the concrete as he came up right behind the panther.

“You should really pay more attention to your surroundings,” he said.

The panther jumped with a hiss of surprise as he whipped around to face him.

The teenager only had the chance to look at him- his face pale with surprise- before He lunged, tackling him to the ground as he wrapped a chain of gold around his neck and pulled.

He placed his full weight onto him as the werecat thrashed under him; short little gasps escaped him as he struggled against his grip. His hands dug at the gold as he tried to pull it loose; he could see the boy’s skin grow red and bloody as the gold burned him. The latter’s golden eyes bulged out as he struggled for breath.

He just waited, pulling the ends of the chain tighter like a garotte. He watched calmly as the werecat’s struggle lessened, resorting to uselessly slapping at the ground. His mouth was open in a big O-shape as he tried to inhale, only succeeding in the chain further crushing his airway.

As an extra precaution, he threaded a hand into the panther’s hair and pulled his head back, before slamming the front right into the ground. The panther jerked once before he went still, lying facedown on the ground.

He stood up, loosening the gold from around the boy’s neck, before he bound his wrists with it. He reached for his ankles and slowly dragged him into the shadow of the tree. In the moonlight, he could see a dark patch on the trail from the panther’s blood.

He re-emerged from a new patch of shadows a second later, just as he heard the vampire’s voice beginning to call out in the direction the panther had gone.

“Moorey, come on!” she called out, “This isn’t funny!”

He smiled from behind his mask.

He ported himself so that he was across the trail from where he’d previously been, hidden by a patch of poison sumac. This spot allowed him to see the car. The lights were on inside, and he could see the harpy sitting in the backseat, looking uneasily out the window.

The vampire stood outside, facing the panther’s direction as her brows furrowed; the annoyance in her eyes was now replaced with worry.

“Moorey?” he heard her call out again, “C-Come on, you’re scaring me!”

She looked back at the car at the harpy.

“W-Where could’ve have gone?” the harpy asked.

The vampire responded, “I…I don’t know.”

She looked back at the path and shouted with desperation, “MOORISEY, COME ON!”

It was delightful, watching them squirm at the silence. If he hadn’t had bigger plans for them, he could’ve done this all night.

Deciding He had teased them enough, he moved out from the poison sumac and aimed for the shadow that the panther’s car casted. The harpy was still distracted as he bent down to look through the backseat window, her gaze turned towards the vampire’s direction.

He grinned as she opened her side door and slid out, standing up to call out to the vampire. _Foolish girl, _he thought, moving around the back of the car to approach her.

“Do you think we should go look for him?” she was asking the vampire as he came up and reached for her.

The vampire turned. Her eyes went wide as dinner plates.

“_HARPER!” _she screamed, “_LOOK OUT!” _

He wrapped the harpy up in a bear hug and teleported them back to behind the poison sumac.

She immediately began to scream and struggle in his grip, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. He had her arms pinned by her sides, though, so she could do nothing more than kick at his shins.

He threw her to the ground and raised his foot, bringing it down upon the back of her feathered leg. The bone snapped like a brittle twig under his boot.

The harpy threw her head back and let out an ear-piercing scream of pain. He cocked his leg back and kicked her in the side of the head. A cloud of spit burst her from her lips before she went limp.

“_HARPER!” _the vampire screamed behind him, “_HARPER, WHERE ARE YOU?!?!?!” _

Leaving the harpy behind the bush- she was going to be out for a few hours anyway, and he couldn’t wasn’t about to let his dear vampire escape- he jumped to the shadow of the handicapped parking sign that stood in front of the parking spot in front of the car. 

The vampire had run onto the trail, obviously having heard the harpy’s screams and was looking for wherever her fallen friend could have gone. He watched as her purple streaked black curls flung around her face wildly as she whipped her head back and forth.

“HARPER!” she shrieked, “HARPER! MOOREY! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

He made sure to grab the keys from the car’s ignition and toss them into a nearby bush before he went for her. He used the shadow of the sign to jump to the little pine she was next to, pulling out the clear glass bottle whose contents consisted of a clear liquid and a rag that was soaked in it.

The vampire rushed over to the poison sumac- probably smelled the blood from the harpy’s nose- and he heard her gasp in horror as she bent down. He followed her, the bottle in his hands as stood right behind her. Her hands flew over her friend’s limp form in horror, small little whimpers escaping her.

“H-H-Harper, wake up!” she said weakly, “Please, wake up!”

He shook his head. It was pitiful, just how easy they made this for him. It was almost disappointing; with a vampire, especially, he had expected just a bit more challenge than this.

He looked down and saw a few stray acorns at his feet. Looking back at the vampire, he gauged her reaction as he lifted his boot and slowly stepped on them, the nuts making a small popping sound as they cracked under his weight.

She froze.

He brought the bottle up from beside him and swung it to the left. It smashed against her temple as it made contact, the liquid splashing against her face and soaking her shirt collar while the shards cut into her skin.

The vampire let out a squeal of surprise, but he gave her no time to recoil before he was on her, grabbing the cloth from where it’d fallen on the ground and holding it up to her mouth as he pinned her to the ground.

Her screams were muffled as he pressed the cloth against her face, her elbows digging into his sides as he quickly restrained her wrists in one hand. He could see the cuts made by the broken bottle already healing.

Her reddish-pink eyes looked up at him with fear.

“I wonder if this is how your victims looked as you drew blood from them,” he whispered to her, “Helpless, fearful, understanding that their pitiful lives were about to end.”

“MMMM! MMMMPHHMPMMM!” she screamed against the cloth.

It didn’t last long, though, as the fight quickly went out of her as the chloroform took effect. He watched as her movements slowed, before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she finally went still beneath him.

He stood up, nudging her with his foot. At the lack of a response, he took a pair of some shoestring- it had been interwoven through the length of a rosary- and tied her arms together, before he lifted her over his shoulder and bent down to grab the harpy by her wrist.

Sparing one last glance at the car, he melted away with them into the darkness. 


	4. Chapter 3: Sinister Starts

Saturday normally was a day that started off peacefully, the ability of being able to sleep in without the stress of getting ready for school or work providing a much-needed relief to Frankie to relax her brain and mentally recharge. It was a great feeling, being able to wake up on her own accord and start the day with a well-rested mind, instead of having to numbly get up and get herself together when she was half-asleep.

This morning, however, she found her beauty creep interrupted by the frantic pinging of her phone, signaling that she’d received a flurry of messages. Frankie groaned, peering out through sand-crusted eyelashes as the noise registered to her. Her eyelids felt puffy and heavy as she blinked, having to take a moment to get awareness of her surroundings. Slowly, she turned over to glance at the source of the noise, seeing her screen light up with several text bubbles.

Letting out another groan, Frankie reached out and grabbed her phone, unplugging it from its charger before she rolled back onto her back and looked at it. The weight of the wires attached to her neck bolts made it feel like she was carrying thirty-pound weights around her neck.

She scrolled through the messages; most of them were from Draculaura, the tone of them rather frantic as she sent about a dozen within only a minute or so. Frankie furrowed her brows as she read them.

“What in the world…” she mumbled, re-reading the texts carefully.

_Did you hear the news? _

_Frankie, wake up, it’s urgent. _

_Hellvira and her boyfriend and another girl went missing. _

_You know, the one from fearleading. _

_Gonna go help them look for her. _

_Let me know when you get these messages, if you want to join. My dad will give you a ride. _

_Clawdeen and Scarah are going with me. _

Frankie blinked. She read the second text over again. The small of fog of sleep that remained dulled her thinking for a moment. She sat up in bed, holding her phone with both hands as it started to all come together.

Hellvira…she knew that name. Yes, she was familiar with her; she was on the fearleading squad with them. One of the vampires who transferred from Belfry Prep during the integration. She was part of Gory’s clique; Frankie had a few conversations with her on occasion, but Hellvira always tended to stick with the rest of her academy friends. Last thing she’d heard about her, she had gotten with some panther boy from the graveball team.

“She’s missing?” Frankie repeated, now fully awake. She looked over the text again.

Not just her, but apparently two others, one of which was said panther boy.

Her body acted on its own accord as Frankie immediately threw back the covers and unclamped her wires. Watzit lifted his bed from where he lay on his doggie bed as she swung her feet out, before she stood up and rushed to her dresser, hurriedly pulling out a random t-shirt and leggings before she headed to the bathroom.

She quickly brushed her hair and her teeth and quickly fixed a messy ponytail, before she headed out, grabbing her phone and purse on the way. Watzit bolted out of his bed and gave a few small barks as he followed her, his interest piqued at the sudden high energy his owner was exhibiting.

The pat of her shoes against the stairs echoed through the kitchen as she came downstairs. She looked around; there was no sign of her parents or Alivia. They were probably all still sleeping.

Scribbling a quick note on the counter to let them know she was heading out and would give them the details as they came, Frankie hurried out the front door. As she began walking towards the direction of Draculaura’s house, she brought up the vampire’s number and dialed.

“_Hello?” _Laura answered.

“Hey, I’m on my way to your place,” Frankie said, “What happened? I just saw you said she was missing.”

“_Yeah, that’s what it’s looking like,” _Laura explained, “_So this morning, Clawd and I got up early to go the gym. When we got back- it was around seven or so- I got a call from Gory, asking that if by any chance we stopped by the park at all or if we’d seen Hellvira at all by any chance. _

_“She said that she got a call from her other friends- most of the Belfry vampires live together- saying that Hellvira had gone out a late jog with her boyfriend. They said she always does that since she likes having to deal with less traffic and stuff like that. Well, I guess they ended up meeting up with Harper at the park- you know her, right? Harper Quill, from science class?” _

“The one that everyone says has a hoarding problem?” Frankie asked.

“_Yeah, that one,” _Laura clarified, “_Anyway, they seemed to have met up while Hellvira and Moorey were jogging on the trail that leads through Devilman’s Park. Harper’s parents say they got a text from her saying they’d give a ride back; that was sent around midnight. Gory says that their roommates thought that she just went to rest at Moorey’s, but then HIS parents called them asking if he’d come over. And nobody’s heard anything from the three of them since._

_“They said they thought maybe they just stayed out later than planned and were just at the part of the trail where the signal gives out, but after two hours or so they finally called the police,” _she finished up.

“Geez, that’s spooky,” Frankie said, “Have they found anything?”

Laura responded in a grave tone, “_They have, and it’s not looking good. The cops went out to the park to look around they found Moorey’s car with all their stuff, but the all the doors were open and the keys were gone. Now, they’re suspecting foul play.” _

Frankie felt chills run through her at that statement. It didn’t take a genius to figure out with those factors that something was definitely amiss.

_“Gory and Bram called me to see if me and some of the others from the fearleading and casketball teams would be willing to help them search,” _Draculaura added, “_On the off chance maybe they somehow got lost or got hurt.” _

“Okay,” Frankie said, “Are you guys already out there?”

“_We split up into different groups. I'm heading out right now with mine to search where the bike trail leads off to the back of those houses for any clues,” _Laura said, “_I’ll let my dad know you’re on your way. He’ll take you to the meetup spot the search party organized.” _

“Got it,” Frankie said.

They bid each other goodbye, before she hung up and slid her phone back into her pocket. The wind picked up, causing her to grimace as she wrapped her jacket tighter around herself.

Mr. D was already waiting for her on the porch as she approached the wrought iron gate of the Dracula mansion. He perked up at the sight of her and started down the steps.

“Aw, Frankie,” he greeted, giving her a slight hug, “Thank you for coming out to help us.”

“Well, you know me. Always there to help those in need,” Frankie said with a small smile. It quickly faded, though, as she thought about the circumstance as to why she was here.

“Once we get there, Ramoanah will tell you who you’re going to be going with,” Dracula explained once they were in the car, “The plan is to try and scope out every area of the park, including the patches of growth, to look for any clues. The sheriff thinks there may be the possibility they were chased off the path by a wild animal or got hurt, or both; the bears and cougars tend to be more active around this time of year, especially the deeper you get into the woods.”

Frankie nodded, though she found the suggestion rather unlikely. Three cryptids- one of which was a vampire with a healing factor- losing against one animal? It sounded almost like a joke.

“What if they…you know, don’t find anything?” she asked.

Dracula gave her a look from the side. He his gaze back to the front and gave a sigh.

“Then the police will have to open an investigation,” he said, “They’ll be looking into if any of them were acting weirdly leadin up to this, or if any suspicious people were seen with them.”

He gave her a stern look, “But don’t start wandering to that territory just yet. That’s why we’re looking, in case we find something that can rule out the worst before we have to start considering it. The last thing we need is to start a panic if there's not one to be had. Okay?”

“Okay,” Frankie answered, though she still had doubts. She kept them to herself, however, and turned her to look out the windshield.

It suddenly occurred to her that she had made plans with Jackson and Holt later today. She didn’t know how long this kind of thing went on for- if they were planning on going through the whole park, it sounded like it could go on for at least several hours. She pulled out her phone.

_Hey, it’s me. Something came up and I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight. _

Jackson responded a second later.

_This about those three kids that went missing? _

Frankie rose a brow. _You heard it too? _

_Jackson: Deuce texted me this morning. I told him how I had the meeting with the research coordinator today. He said it was fine, but I can still cancel if u guys need me_

Frankie smiled, despite herself. She shook her head like he could see her.

_We should be fine. Lala says they called both the casketball team and the squad to help look, so we should have more than enough. _

_Jackson: U sure? _

_Yes. I’ll keep u posted if anything comes up_

_Jackson: Ok…be safe. I love u _

_I love u 2_

Turning her screen off, Frankie looked back up. An uncomfortable twinge occurred in her stomach as Dracula pulled up to Devilman’s Park. Several uniformed police officers stood around a vehicle and one of the paths of the running trail. There was yellow crime scene tape forming a square around a dark blue Honda.

Dracula turned and pulled his car into a spot at the edge of the lot, near the bathrooms. He gave Frankie a small, half-hearted smile as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, then, let’s get going,” he said, “The best we can do is think positively and hope for the best.”

Frankie nodded. She tried to remain optimistic, but there was a lingering worry in the back of her mind that possibly this whole thing was for naught.

Yeah, hope for the best.

Hope at the least, they wouldn’t stumble across a body anytime soon.

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t need me, Deuce?” Jackson asked, “I can always tell them I can’t make it. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

_“Dude, no, you’ve been waiting for this chance forever,” _Deuce countered over the phone, “_It wouldn’t be fair to you to just have to bail out. Trust me, we have enough people here.” _

That didn’t assure Jackson much. He felt like he still needed to be there and do _something_; he didn’t know any of the kids involved, but there was a nagging feeling inside of him that told him to get out there, for whatever reason.

Deuce must’ve somehow sensed his distress, as he added, “_You can always come over when you’re done. Just call me and I’ll tell you what point we’re at. But now, you go on ahead and do your fancy science stuff and get started on whatever is going to win you a Nobel prize. Got it?” _

Jackson smiled, “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“_You know I’m always on the lookout for my bros,” _Deuce said, “_And you better not bail to come help us! Or I’ll have to probably put the stone on you.” _

“Don’t worry, I’m heading there now,” Jackson assured.

He hung up and looked up at the large concrete building that stood in front of him. The giant glass windows were open, allowing him to observe the various white-coated members and students as they shuffled back and forth, performing labs and assignments and whatever else the biochemistry field entailed.

He looked back at the walkway for a moment, a small flicker of doubt making him think about still reconsidering the whole thing and going out to meet Frankie to help her at the park. He shook his head, though, and brushed off those thoughts. Deuce was right- maybe it was selfish, maybe not, but this was a golden opportunity, and he didn’t want to miss out on this chance. Plus, Frankie said she’d keep him updated about their progress, so it wasn’t like he was going to be completely ignorant to it.

Taking a deep breath, Jackson smoothed down his shirt, before he headed inside.

It was almost too good to be true, the proposition he’d been given. As part of his search for schools to apply to, he’d been looking to see research opportunities that were open, hopeful that he’d possibly be able to get into one soon after he enrolled into a major. It was a miracle when three weeks ago, he’d gotten an e-mail from Headmistress Bloodgood about how through Monster High’s college-credit program- a way for students to take college-level classes and even seek out an associate’s degree early should they desire- he could apply for a research position at the local university’s chemistry program that would count towards a few science lab credits.

He was sure that it was bound to prove a challenge- on top of all his schoolwork and things he had to do get done as senior year approached, he’d also have to write up reports and keep track of them and the data from this program- but Jackson found that it added an air of excitement to it all. His mom joked that it was a definite sign he was a Jekyll.

Walking through the doors, he asked the receptionist at the front desk where to go, and she directed him down a flight of stairs to a large steel door that rested at the end of the hallway. There was a single window and a sign on front that read **ATTENDEES MUST GOGGLES AND GLOVES IN LAB AT ALL TIMES**, with a picture below demonstrating what qualified as proper lab attire.

Right outside the door, a phantom with pale green skin in a lab coat stood looking at a clipboard as he talked with a colleague. His facial features made him look somewhere around mid-fifties, and his combed back dark blue hair was tousled under the safety goggles that rested on the top of his head. Jackson recognized him as Jane Boolittle’s father.

The phantom looked up at the sound of his sneakers squeaking on the tile. He smiled and nodded, “Aw, Jackson! I was waiting for you! Glad you could make it.”

Jackson smiled as he reached out his hand and shook the older gentleman’s. “I’m glad you allowed me this opportunity.”

Dr. Boolittle responded, “Well, let’s get started then. We won’t assign you any experiments to assist on until next week, so today will mostly be a tour of the facility and a run down on what we’ll be doing.”

Jackson nodded in understanding. Dr. Boolittle handed him a lab coat and pair of goggles, before he used his keycard to open the door to the lab and guided the brunette in.

“So my team is normally more concerned with biteology, but I’m also part of a subdivision that studies environmental chemistry and the effect on organic compounds on ecosystems, so that’s the majority of the content you’ll be working with,” Dr. Boolittle explained as he showed him the equipment and placement of where everything was, “The first few weeks will be exclusively in the lab, and in about two months or so they’re planning on going out to the field for observations. You’ll be expected to form your own field report and be able to take and record your own data.”

“Will you be helping out with the experiments as well, Doctor?” Jackson asked.

Dr. Boolittle shook his head, “Oh, no. I’m afraid I’m much too busy with all the samples we collected on the latest expedition in South America to get involved. My unlife partner will be teaching you. He should be here in just a few minutes.”

As if on cue, there was a resounding creak that echoed through the spacious lab as the door was opened. With him and the doctor being in the back room where the waste disposal bottles were kept, Jackson was unable to see who had entered, but a moment later heard a male voice call out, “Sorry, I’m late! I was caught up in trying to get the chromatography for the ferrocene samples done that I didn’t’ realize the time!”

Dr. Boolittle shook his head. “I told you we’d have plenty of time to go through them, tomorrow. Nevermind that, though, the student is here.”

Footsteps patted against the floor as the person made their way to the back room. Jackson turned to see them as they appeared in the doorway. Dr. Boolittle smiled and put a hand on the man’s shoulder, gesturing to him.

“Jackson, I’d like you to meet my partner, Dr. Leodore Moreau,” he introduced, “He’s going to be the one working with you for the program.”

Dr. Moreau grinned and held out a furry hand. “Nice to meet you!”

“It’s an honor, sir,” Jackson replied, shaking back.

“Oh, please, none of that ‘sir’ stuff,” Dr. Moreau said, “It makes me feel like an old fuddy-duddy. Just Doctor or even Leo will be fine.”

“Okay, Doctor,” Jackson corrected.

He took a brief glance down at the doctor’s hand. He remembered overhearing Jane clarify to a few students in class that her stepfather wasn’t actually the original Doctor Moreau- though she wouldn’t elaborate past that detail other than “read the normie book about it and draw your own conclusions about what’s real or not”- but to see one of the original so-called “Beast Folk” up close was still quite a sight to behold.

This Dr. Moreau looked like a hybrid monster of several different species; for the most part, he looked like was a werelion, with tawny fur covering his lean frame and a cream colored muzzle, while his long hair was a deep ochre that was held back in a tight ponytail. However, poking out from the sleeves of his lab coat, Jackson could see red and blue feathers lining his arms, and his hands had talons instead of nails. He also had a pair of giant ox horns sticking out from his mane, and his tail resembled more of a wolf’s.

He must’ve been staring, because Dr. Moreau’s light green eyes lit up as he smirked.

“I know, not who you would expect,” he said, “I get that a lot.”

Jackson blushed. “S-Sorry,” he said.

Dr. Moreau brushed him off. “Oh, it’s fine, I’m used to it. Say, you’re one of Jane’s classmates, aren’t you?”

“We’re in biteology together,” Jackson answered.

“Yeah, yeah, I thought I recognized you somewhere!” Dr. Moreau exclaimed, “Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to get the hang of things in no time.”

Jackson blushed, appreciating the confidence. Dr. Boolittle nodded at his companion and gave him a slight squeeze on the arm.

“I have to get to a meeting,” he said, “I trust you won’t do anything to scare the lad away?”

Dr. Moreau rolled his eyes, “Oh, sure. You blow something up in front of an intern _one time_, and suddenly you’re a walking safety hazard.”

He tilted his head up anyway, though, allowing the phantom doctor to give him a small peck on the cheek, before Dr. Boolittle turned to Jackson.

“It was nice meeting you, Jackson,” he said, “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again, eventually.”

Jackson nodded with a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

He bid them both goodbye, and they watched him walk out of the lab, before Doctor Moreau turned back to Jackson.

“If you just follow me, I can show you where the computers that we use for mass spectroscopy are,” he said, waving for the half-human boy to follow them as he started making his way to a side door, “After that we’ll go by the stockroom- I have to get some test tubes anyway- and the testing facility where they keep the animals if it’s not too crowded.”

He led them out of the door and let it lock behind them. As Jackson trailed him, he took the opportunity to quickly slip his phone out of his pocket and send a quick message to Frankie.

_Any luck so far? _

_Frankie: Barely. Police found the keys to the car- they were on the ground, like someone had either dropped them or they were thrown. Other than that, we’ve got nothing, and we’ve been at this for an hour _ _☹_

Jackson frowned. Even if it were just texts, he could detect an edge of despair from her at the lack of progress from the search party; he felt another wave of guilt come over him over not being there with her and lending a helping hand.

He pushed it down, telling himself that he _would _be lending a helping hand. Just later rather than right that morning like everyone else had. Besides, he reminded himself, he doubted he would’ve made much of a difference in their lack of success; without any advanced senses or reflexes and the fact that without his glasses, he couldn’t see worth a damn, he probably wouldn’t be much help beyond moral support.

Shoving his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, Jackson dismissed the thoughts for now and focused his attention back on Dr. Moreau as the latter resumed talking about what rooms were used for what and where to find them.

“So by these elevators, if you turn into that walkway and go past the water fountain, that’s where the conference room is going to be,” Dr. Moreau explained, “The uppermost level is where the lecture halls and study rooms are, but we don’t really use those except when we have seminars and expos going on…”

* * *

It had been three hours since the search of the park began, and nobody was getting anywhere. And even as someone with an optimism level like hers, Draculaura knew that that was a sign that whatever events had transpired here last night, they couldn’t have been of anything else but a heinous nature.

She casted a wary glance at the tall pine trees that loomed over their heads. She had gone with Bram and Gory to the more forested area of the park, where the trees were densely packed together and the trail was just a narrow path of concrete that would have the occasional wild animal run across it once or twice.

Since this morning, the three of them had been carefully threading their way through the trees and combing through bushes as they searched high and low for any sign of Hellvira and her friends. And so far, they had made little progress since they had started.

Draculaura hissed as she felt a branch snag a lock of her hair and pull. As she untangled it from her head, she turned to watch as Gory and Bram came out from behind a large oak, both them stopping as their gazes met.

“Any luck with you?” Gory asked, her tone uncharacteristically worried.

Bram shook his head. “Just a bunch of deer tracks and spiderwebs. I don’t think anyone’s been out in this area for months, if ever.”

Gory let out a growl of frustration. “This is fucking ridiculous, there has to be _something _that says where the fuck they went! I mean, a wallet, a gum wrapper, anything!”

Draculaura regarded her with a sad expression as she watched the taller vampires bury her hands into her hair. Gory looked almost unrecognizable in her attire, a pair of dirtied jeans, hiking boots, and a Monster High sweatshirt replacing her usual attire of pressed blouses and neatly pleaded skirts, and her violet-streaked hair was haphazardly thrown into a small ponytail. Obviously, the news- o rather, lack of- when it came to their friend’s whereabouts had put her on edge.

Trying to keep them focused, Laura spoke up. “Maybe they got spooked and shifted? Maybe they came across a bear and hid away until they thought it was safe. That would explain why we haven’t found any prints.”

“But that still makes no sense,” Gory argued, “Even if they did do that, wouldn’t they have been able to outrun it by now? I mean, Hellvira fought in the Hundred Years’ War! She’s gone head to head with dragons, a bear would be the equivalent of fighting a mouse to her. And where would they be? Why-why wouldn’t they return home after they got away?”

Her face suddenly became pinched. She grit her teeth like a sudden rage had come over her; the pearly white fangs stood out against her scarlet lips.

“Unless she was blindsided and taken off guard,” she hissed, “I bet Moorey had something to do with it. I knew I had a bad feeling about that guy- he was always trying to get her alone and shove his way into her things. He probably did something to her and Harper.”

Bram approached her and gently put his hands on her upper arms. “You know you don’t mean that,” he said softly.

The anger instantly faded as Gory looked up to him, rose-colored eyes wet behind her black frames.

“What could’ve happened to them, Bram?” she asked in a small voice, “Where could they be?”

Draculaura felt a tug in her chest as she watched Bram bring Gory in for a hug; she held him tightly, her nails digging into the fabric of his jacket as he tried to soothe her. She couldn’t remember a time she’d seen the two regal and haughty vampires so unwound.

She felt her phone buzz in her jacket pocket, before her ringtone pierced the calm of the forest. A flock of birds lifted off from the branches of a nearby fir at the sound, letting out annoyed squawks as they flew away. Draculaura slid her phone out and looked at the screen. Her dad’s name was listed in the little bubble as the one who was calling.

“Hello?” she answered, pressing it to the phone.

“_Where are you three at right now?” _her father asked, forgoing formalities.

Draculaura glanced around. “Um, on the bike trail just past the one leading to the station. What, have you found something?”

Her father sighed heavily, “_No. They brought out sniffing dogs here half an hour ago, but they haven’t proven of much use. It’s like they get a few feet and then the trail seems to go completely cold.” _

Laura nodded despite it being a phone conversation. “What is the detective making of it?”

_“He says either that means they possibly blew out of range for the scent to be strong enough to trail, or they, well, quite literally disappeared into thin air,” _Dracula explained, “_Either way, Laura it’s…the outlook isn’t looking very bright right now.” _

“I know,” Draculaura admitted quietly, “What are the police going to do?”

“_The search will go on as long as possible and as long as people are still willing to look,” _her father said, “_The police will look further into it and try to get the word out. That is, if we don’t stumble across a definite answer as to what happened to them soon…” _

Laura really didn’t want to think of what a “definite answer” meant in this circumstance. She looked over her shoulder; Bram and Gory had their attention on her, curious to hear about whatever developments she was possibly hearing. Gory stared at her with an unusual fear in her eyes, her porcelain skin somehow even paler.

Attempting to ease their fears, she gave them a half-smile and shook her head. She turned around to face them as she focused her attention back on her and her dad’s conversation.

“I’m going to keep looking with them,” she said, not wanting to dwell on that particular idea, “I’ll call you to let you know when we’ve reached the end.”

_“Okay,” _her father said, “_Be safe, Laura.” _

“I will,” she said, “Love you, bye.”

She pressed ‘end’ on her screen and hung up, before she turned back to the two taller vampires.

“My dad says they brought out some search dogs to help with the search,” she explained, “But they couldn’t really find a trail. He says the cops are thinking either they all flew somehow or something else.”

“Something else?” Gory’s brows knitted together, “What _something else _could it have been? Three people don’t just vanish out of thin air!”

Laura winced at the harsh tone; she knew that the accusation wasn’t directed at her and that the bespectacled vampire was just lashing out from the mix of high emotions that had been building all morning, but Gory’s sharp voice still hurt somewhat.

Bram turned to her. “Gory, she’s only repeating what he told her-“

“Well that information’s not very helpful, is it?” Gory snapped, “So we know that there’s nothing we can trail them with, yeah, that’s suuuuch a great clue.”

She turned on her heel and started making her way back towards the trees.

“What are we waiting for, we still have a lot left to clear!” she growled at them, “Don’t just stand around, we need to find something!”

With that, she marched off into the woods. Laura and Bram hung back, watching her go. Bram turned to Laura, an apologetic look on his face.

“She doesn’t mean to be so irritable,” he said, “She’s scared and she’s worried. Her and Hellvira have been friends for nearly a hundred years, so if something happened to her-“

“I know,” Draculaura cut him off. She gave him a smile of reassurance, trying to pass off Gory’s comments like they hadn’t stung much. “I’m okay. Honest.”

She couldn’t tell if Bram believed her or not, but if he did, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he turned in the direction Gory.

“Well, nothing else we can do now but look, is there?” he suggested, before going off in towards a bush that was right to where Gory had left.

Draculaura nodded. She took a deep breath and sighed, her shoulders dropping heavily at the action, before she readjusted her jacket and took off in her own direction.

They were both so determined to find their friend.

It was going to be hard having to watch them fall apart if they learned the worst had happened. And considering how little they’d accomplished since they started, it was looking like the worst had indeed happened.

Feeling a tightening feeling in her chest at the thought, Draculaura buried those thoughts for now and focused her attention back on the trail. Bracing herself for the rough terrain ahead, she pushed forth and began to slowly search the bushes.

* * *

“You can’t do that, Uncle!”

_“I’m not doing anything, Lilith,” _he said sharply, “_But if your father thinks that school is not providing for your needs, I have no reason to disagree with him. And from the looks of it, he made the right call.” _

“Because he actually thinks that, or because _you _talked him into it?” Lilith asked scathingly, resisting the urge to say something to her uncle that would surely send her mother racing to her room to wash her mouth out.

It had been a tense week at the Van Hellscream household. With her parents rushing around to make sure everything was in place as they prepared to unstone her uncle, Lilith felt like they might as well have been preparing an overthrow of the government; every day had been a constant checking and re-checking to make sure the moon cycles were accurate, constant measurements to see if they had enough gorgon powder, so and so forth. She’d quickly learned to stay out of the way, any wrong move or word triggering an entire rant as her parents grew more stressed out about the slightest thing going wrong.

Luckily, the unstoning process had gone according to plan.

The tension before it, though, was nothing compared to _after _her uncle was finally freed, and he had learned of his niece’s activities while he was gone.

Lilith had known that her making friends with the monsters was probably going to change their relationship- it certainly had become a sore talking point with her parents, who didn’t hesitate to add in a passive aggressive comment whenever she came back from hanging out with Frankie or Cleo- especially given her uncle’s past activities and the overall consideration of their family history. What she didn’t expect, however, was just how quickly everything had gone to hell in a handbasket.

She could remember how just a few years ago, when she was a freshman, she couldn’t wait for her uncle to come over for the holidays and tell her stories about his latest adventures in dealing with cryptids from around the world.

Now, she could barely hold a phone call with him without the two of them blowing up, and the mere thought of being in the same room with him made her stomach recoil in dread.

On the other end, her Uncle Lawrence sighed in annoyance.

“_Really, Lilly, are we going to go through this again?” _he asked, “_Your parents are adults, too, you know. It’s not like I’m the ultimate deciding factor of their decisions.” _

“Oh, really? Is that why Dad has literally never brought up wanting me to change schools until _you _mentioned it when you were over?” Lilith questioned accusingly, “Talking about how ‘concerned’ you were for how New Salem and its student body were ‘influencing’ me?”

Her uncle growled, “_Maybe I wouldn’t be concerned if your teachers didn’t let their students prance about with the abominations from over the river.” _

Lilith’s grip on her phone tightened as a flare of anger lit up inside her. She’d known right at the beginning, when her uncle had first mentioned it, that that was what this was about, but hearing him refer to her friends at Monster High at such still made her bristle with anger.

Through gritted teeth, she responded, “They’re my friends.”

_“They’re monsters, Lilith!” _Lawrence shouted, “_They’re creatures of the damned, destined to walk the earth to bring ruin and war to all of mankind! How could you associate with those things?! Especially what they’ve done to our family?!” _

“Frankie and her friends haven’t done anything to me!” Lilith shouted back, “They’re nice, and they’re fun and they treat me well! They’re not their ancestors, they’re nothing like monsters from the old world!”

“_’Not like their ancestors’, how naïve,” _Lawrence repeated with venom, “_Some of those monsters ARE their ancestors from the old world. Have you forgotten how they kept me prisoner in their catacombs for over a year, like their own personal statue?” _

“After _you _imprisoned their headmaster!” Lilith yelled, “You tried to ignite a war between the vampires and werewolves like we’re still living during the War of the Blood Moon! You have no one but yourself to blame for what they did!”

“_You’re still so naïve,” _her uncle responded darkly, “_You’re merely a child, you can’t possibly understand what our kind is up against. You degrade yourself associating with them. They killed your great-grandfather, permanently disfigured your grandmother, and yet you allow yourself to roll around with those creatures all because one of them might wear a pretty dress or like the same music as you. _

_“But I warn you, Lilith Eugenia, they are not your friends. Those things know no loyalty except to themselves and their disgusting kind. They will use you, and when you prove you are no longer any use, they will throw you away and leave you to rot,” _he added, “_I only pray that you will finally come to your senses before that time comes.” _

Lilith didn’t say anything. Her fist balled at his words; she stared at the movie poster on the wall across form her with an angry expression. Inside, she felt like screaming her head off until her voice went hearse, not caring if her parents or neighbors heard, but on the outside she was simply too angry in the moment to do anything but glare at the wall like it had been the one to offend her.

She heard her uncle sigh, before he finally spoke up again, “_This conversation is getting us nowhere. I have paperwork I have to do. I will see you on Thursday.” _

Still wound up, Lilith wanted to argue back, but forced herself to let it go. She wanted to spend this Saturday relaxing at home, watching movies and drinking soda, and the last thing she needed was to stress herself out in trying to find some common ground with her uncle that clearly wasn’t there.

“Okay,” she muttered.

“_I love you, Lilith,” _Lawrence said, “_I know you might doubt that now, but I’ve only ever wanted the best for you.” _

“I…I know,” Lilith said quietly, “I love you, too.”

It was true. Even with everything on the rocks, she still loved and cared for him dearly. He was her uncle, after all.

_“Goodbye.” _

_“_Bye.”

The line went dead on her side. Lilith pulled the phone away from her ear and glared at it, before she tossed it on the bed. She sat on the edge and crossed her arms, mulling over his words.

It was sad, she thought, to think of how badly they had fallen out. Once, she used to think her uncle to be one of the strongest, wisest men on the planet.

Now she was starting to wonder if he was possibly a borderline sociopath.

He was planning something. She knew that from his tone; he wouldn’t try to convince her parents to transfer her just out of spite. He wanted her out of the way for something; possibly for her protection, or so she couldn’t interfere if she caught onto him. Or both.

Whatever it was, she wouldn’t let him. She didn’t know what he was going to do or how or when, but she’d find out.

Even if her family thought otherwise, she was still a Van Helsing descendent, and therefore had a few tricks of her own up her sleeve.

All she had to do was wait and watch. Then she’d prove to them just how much of the “family business” actually flowed through her.

* * *

He stood, watching the harpy as she hung against the chains lifelessly. Her head hung so that her chin was touching her collarbone; it lolled back and forth to the side. He could hear her moan faintly, seemingly just beginning to come to.

It surprised him. They tended to be out for a while, but it’d been almost a whole day. He must’ve underestimated his own strength when he hit her.

Her little friends had already woken up and he’d since had his fun with them. He could still smell the faint traces of their blood on his cloak; the memory of their heavenly-sounding screams echoed in his ears.

He’d be back to them in a few hours. For now, though, he could only hope she would give him just as much of a show.

He lifted his head as her head suddenly tilted forward. Slowly, he could see her eyelids flutter, before they slowly peeled open as she finally regained consciousness. She stared at the floor for a few seconds, clearly disoriented from her blow to the head, before she finally looked up to stare at him.

“W-Wha…where is…” she tried to say. Her words were slightly slurred. She kept blinking at him, like it wasn’t quite registering to her just what she was looking at.

She tried to shift, only for the shackles around her wrist- the ends of which he’d bolted and welded into place on the ceiling- to tug back, keeping her in her slightly hanging position. To an outsider, it would’ve looked like she was forming a Y-shape.

It seemed to finally occur to her how he was dressed, as she blinked once again, before her eyes suddenly widened in horror. Her pupils shrunk to the size of pennies. She glanced up at her restraints, jerking at her wrists in an attempt to free them, before she glanced back at him. He could smell her already starting to sweat. A small whimper escaped her.

He lifted his chin.

“Hello, my dear,” he greeted, “Sleep well?”

“Ummm…mnnn….ammm…” she sputtered back unintelligibly. Probably too shocked to be able to form coherent words.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear that,” he teased, “What was that again?”

“W-W-Where am I ?” she finally managed to ask. Her voice was little more than a squeak.

He waved her off. “Oh, just my little fun place. Do you like the look of it? I made all the renovations myself.”

She glanced around fearfully; the bottom of her feet scuffed on the ground as the rapid speed of her movements caused her to lightly swing back and forth.

As her right foot caught on the ground, she suddenly doubled over with a hiss. No doubt she’d felt the shock of her broken leg.

“Yeah, that looks pretty bad,” He said, bending sideways as he observed her fractured tibia, “Sorry about that. I got a little caught up in the excitement of it all.”

There were tears in the harpy’s eyes as she looked at her leg. She let out a muffled scream as she began to shake violently.

“Never mind that, though, we can do something about that later,” He dismissed, “Right now, I think we should get better situated with one another. Get to see the…_inner _portions of ourselves. Well, _you _at least.”

Her head shot up at him. Her feathered face paled, like a vampire had just sucked the life out of her. He stepped towards her, his hand reaching under his cloak to finger the knife he had holstered on his belt.

“Not that you have much of a choice,” he said, “After all, you’re going to be here for a long, _long _time.”

The earsplitting scream she let out like a siren’s song to his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia: As a reference for myself and those interested, I made a list of fan-names I've given to the vampire and werewolf backgrounders (https://virgogreen.tumblr.com/post/187844267043/fright-on-backgrounder-fan-namesheadcanons) in case you want to get an idea of who's who, since a few of these names will be appearing in later chapters. 
> 
> For the fan-names of this chapter: 
> 
> -Hellvira: The vampire with long black hair with purple streaks who calls Howleen a disease-carrier in Fright On. 
> 
> -Moorey/Moorissey: Based on the Create a Monster Puma Boy. 
> 
> -Harper: Officially named "Quill Talyntino" for the 2014 doll election, the green and yellow backgrounder harpy. She's the one who says she likes to collect shiny things in "Decomposition Class"


	5. Chapter 4: A Disappearance of One

“I heard they were found on a dark web pornography site traced to Las Vegas.”

“My mom works at the news station. She says they may be thinking the guy is behind it; apparently he’s had problems with anger management and the courts made him go to support groups or something.”

“I heard that Harper’s parents found tons of jewelry and stuff missing from their house the morning of the search, and now they’re thinking they conspired to steal it and faked their deaths to live in luxury.”

Cleo wrinkled her nose. She looked in the directions of where the comments had come from, a scowl of disdain coming onto her face as her eyes landed upon a group of freshmen who’d recently joined the squad, the four of which were seated around in a small circle and leaning into one another as they gossiped. Gossiping, mind you, when they _should’ve _been doing their warm-ups exercises for practice.

It was only Wednesday, but for the past few days, the atmosphere of the student body had been a bit more hectic than normal, as the news of the three students who had gone missing over the weekend finally broke out and everyone tried to make sense of what could’ve happened.

Not that Cleo didn’t enjoy her fair share of gossip, but she also believed there was always a time or place for such talk. And fearleading practice was _not _one of them.

As if to emphasize the point, at that moment, she noticed Gory and two of the other girls, both former Belfry transfers, stop in the middle of their set of sit-ups to shoot glares at the freshmen. Obviously, a sensitive subject for the three of them, considering they were all close to Hellvira; they probably didn’t appreciate their friend’s disappearance being treated like the latest scoop in a trashy tabloid.

Deciding that they didn’t need the possibility of a fight breaking out- and the fact that _fearleading practice _was for _fearleading practice_, not sharing secrets like ghouls at a creep-over- she marched over to the circle and put her hands on her hips, straightening her back to stare down at them.

“You know, Gwen, I’m sure all this talking could do wonders for your voice and cheer,” she spoke up, “But considering that the next game’s in only a week, I’d think you’d want to dedicate more time to perfecting those backflips considering how horrendous they were on Monday.”

The short-haired gwyllgi jumped; she twisted around to face the mummy, her red eyes wide.

“C-Cleo!” she exclaimed, “We were just-“

“Doing something that doesn’t look like you’re getting ready for practice,” Cleo scolded, “Which would be highly unfortunate, because that would tell me that in the time I took to look over who I thought was going to be good enough for this squad, that I made an error in judgement believing you and your friends were going to have the dedication and responsibility it takes to me sure that we come out on top. And I really don’t like to be made a fool out of.”

She narrowed her eyes at them. “Fix it.”

Gwen and her friends immediately shot to their feet. Gwen kept her head low as she passed her, muttering a “sorry” as she joined up with the other girls who were jogging around the gym. Some of the others followed suite, while a few shot Cleo a dirty look but silently did as they were told. Cleo glared back at them.

As they scurried from her, she caught Gory’s eye as her, Carmen, and Fangtasia watched them go. Gory gave her a curt nod.

_Thanks, _she mouthed. Cleo waved her off dismissively. Couldn’t be showing any sign of possible concern at a time like this, after all.

Satisfied now that all the girls were involved in warm-ups, she turned on her heel and headed over to the gym mats, where her friends were doing their pre-run stretches.

Clawdeen shot her a look as she approached. “A little harsh there, weren’t you?” she asked.

Cleo responded, “If harsh is what’s going to get them to stay focused, then harsh I will be.”

“Can’t really blame them, though,” Frankie said as she glanced towards Gory’s friends, “It is a bit of the elephant in the room. I mean, Hellvira’s one of our best flyers, so to do this whole thing without her feels a little…off.”

“Maybe, but we can’t just ourselves get distracted over who can come up with the most outrageous conspiracy,” Cleo countered, “They’ll have plenty of time to make their own rumors when we’re done.”

She finished up a few more stretches with Draculaura, before she turned to face the rest of the team and clapped her hands together.

“Okay, ghouls, hopefully you’re more than ready,” she announced, “Now, since the next casketball game is next week, and championships are quickly approaching, I think it would be best for everyone if we go over our routine for the former first, that way everyone knows their place and stunts, and then we could start organizing for-“

Cleo stopped when she suddenly noticed something off about the group. The rest of the girls looked at her with confusion as she scanned their faces, trying to get a clue as to what was missing. It suddenly occurred to her that they were missing a familiar orange-furred girl.

“Meowlody, where’s Toralei?” she asked as she turned to the twins, frowning, “She better not be skipping out on practice again.”

Meowlody regarded her with an expression of equal exasperation as she rolled her eyes at the mummy. “Oh, relax, De Nile. She’s probably sick- she wasn’t at school today.” 

“She better be, because I didn’t let you three back on just for you to screw around,” Cleo said.

“Well, once she’s back, you can ask her yourself. I’m not her mother, you know, I can’t control what she does,” Meowlody shot back with a bit of bite.

The two shared a quick glare, while Purrsephone and the rest of the squad glanced between them, either with worry or eagerness.

Part of Cleo wanted to further reprimand the werecat- who did she think she was, talking to the captain and a princess like that?- but chose to let it go. They needed to get this routine down before the game, lest they make fools of themselves in front of everyone and their parents, and she wanted to get a head start on organizing their stunts for championships. So she just gave Meowlody one last ‘hmph’ before she turned back to the squad.

“Well, we’ll just have to adjust our pyramid for today then,” she commented, “Anyway, as I was saying, let’s all get into position. I expect nothing but the best, got it? I want those handsprings and back-tucks to seem like they’re all star position!”

With that, they went about practice as usual. Cleo kept a careful eye on the girls as they went through their assigned positions, observing and calling out every mistake or delayed reaction she caught. By the end, some of the fearleaders looked on the verge of tears and others looked like they were three seconds away from strangling her- the signs she was doing her job right.

Later on that day, once practice was over and everyone had changed out of their uniforms, Cleo continued her rant to Deuce and Ghoulia as the latter drove them to her house in his car.

“I swear, it’s like these freshmeats get so eager to join and ‘prove’ themselves and then want to treat the whole thing like it’s some kind of social!” she vented as she touched up her mascara in the car mirror, “If they want to just talk the whole time then they’re always free to go to the maul!”

Deuce smiled, shaking his head at her dramatics. “Go easy on them, babe. For a lot of them, this may be their first time on a team. They probably talk just out of nervous habit.”

“That shouldn’t be an excuse for them to slack off,” Cleo huffed.

_“I seem to remember a certain incident back in freshman year of a certain someone who became so anxious about her first stunt as a flyer she kept me on the phone talking about it and completely missed the entire practice,” _Ghoulia reminded her.

Her and Deuce shared a grin as Cleo whirled around in her seat to glare at the zombie, face going red with embarrassment.

“That-t-t-that was different!” Cleo argued, “I made a mistake, I didn’t keep doing it throughout the season!”

She pouted and slumped in her seat, her arms crossed across her chest like that of a moody child. “Nefera _still _holds that over my head, even now.”

Deuce and Ghoulia tried to be sympathetic, but they both had to hold their hands to their mouths to stifle their chuckles. As much as they cared for the mummy, it was admittedly fun to take her ego down a few pegs. C

The car pulled up along the curb of Cleo’s house and parked. Inside the house, Dedyet sat at the table, piles of paper scattered out in front of her as she read them one by one, occasionally scribbling down notes on the pad she had next to her.

“Hello, darling,” she greeted, her eyes still glued to the file in her hand as the three passed by her.

“Hi, Mummy,” Cleo replied, bending down to give the older woman a kiss on the cheek, “Deuce and Ghoulia are going to the library for a bit to study. I’ll let you know when we’re coming back.”

“That’s fine, dear,” Dedyet said, her tone a bit distracted like she wasn’t really paying attention, “If you two want to stay for dinner, I’ll get out extra plates.”

Cleo smiled, “Wonderful. Now, let’s get going, shall we?”

They made their way back to the car and buckled themselves in, before Deuce headed in the direction of the local library. They found a spot at one of the tables available by the computers and grabbed several books off the shelves, before taking out their notes and settling themselves around the table to form a circle as they got to work. 

After about an hour and a half, they’d been in the middle of working through a synthesis problem, when they all jumped at the sudden shrill sound of a cell phone ringing. Cleo looked down, realizing it was hers.

“SHHHHH!” the goblin librarian hissed from her desk.

“Sorry,” Deuce muttered back, slightly embarrassed.

Ghoulia shot Cleo a withered glared. _“Cleo,” _she scolded.

“I know, I said I’d turn it off,” Cleo defended, “I swear I forgot.”

She glanced down at the screen, her brows furrowing as she failed to recognize the number. Pressing ‘call’, she lowered her head to try and minimize her volume as she answered, “Hello?”

“_Hey, Cleo, um, hi. It’s me.” _

Cleo frowned, “What the- Purrsephone?”

“_Uh, yeah,” _Purrsephone answered from the other end, “_Um, sorry to call you out of the blue like this, but, um, you…you wouldn’t have happened to gotten any messages from Toralei at all, would you? Or run into her if you went out?” _

“Why on Earth would her and I, of all people, have any reason to message each other?” Cleo asked.

“_I don’t know,” _Purrsephone replied, slightly defensive, “_I just thought you two were starting to become frenemies and maybe could have a civil conversation for once, or maybe if there was the chance you worked on a project together and you possibly had each other’s numbers.” _

Confusion quickly turned into suspicion as Cleo thought back to Meowlody’s comment from earlier. “Anyway, no, I haven’t heard anything. I thought your sister said she was sick today?”

_“That’s what we thought, because she didn’t show up this morning. But we…she hasn’t been answering her phone at al today, but we just thought she-she was sleeping, and…oh, oh gods…” _Purrsephone trailed off.

Cleo raised her head, alarmed at the sudden panic that was present in the werecat’s voice.

“Purrsephone?” she said.

_“No, no, no,” _was all the werecat would say, “_Not her. Not already…” _

“Purrsephone?” Cleo repeated, “Why? What’s wrong? What happened?”

Deuce and Ghoulia raised their heads, catching the tone of her voice. They looked at her confusion, waiting for her to explain.

When Purrsephone finally answered, she sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

“_Toralei’s foster parents just called us,” _she explained, _“They said…t-they said Toralei never came home. They said they haven’t seen her since she left for school this morning.” _

Cleo went pale.

“Are…are you sure?” she asked. She was surprised at how small her voice sounded.

“_I’ve called Venus and Spectra, they said they haven’t heard anything,” _Purrsephone responded, “_M-Meowlody and I thought it was weird when she wouldn’t pick up, but then we thought maybe she wasn’t feeling good, b-but then her foster mother was saying she was wondering if she came to hang out with us, because s-she never texted her to let her know, and now…” _

She cut herself off with a sob. Cleo swallowed hard, something tightening in her chest as she listened to the dark-haired werecat cry.

Deuce touched her arm. His brows were knitted with concern. “Cleo?” 

She held up a hand to quiet him, before she tried speaking up. “Purrsephone-“

“_What if something’s happened to her, Cleo?” _Purrsephone interrupted, “_W-What if she was taken by that same guy who took those other three kids? God, I’m so fucking stupid, I shouldn’t known something was off- Toralei **always **answers her phone when we talk. What if...what if she’s hurt?” _

Cleo immediately spoke up, “Don’t talk like that.”

“_But-“ _

“You’re not going to do you or your sister any favors by getting yourself riled up with all these wild thoughts,” she said sternly, “Just…calm down for a second, okay?”

Purrsephone hiccupped, but muttered, “_Okay.” _

“Where are you now?” Cleo asked once she seemed to get a hold of herself. Ghoulia raised her brows at the uncharacteristically soft tone of the mummy’s voice.

_“W-We’re at her house right now,” _Purrsephone answered, “_The police are here. T-They asked us a bunch of questions.” _

“Okay,” Cleo said, “Do you…do you want me to do anything? Like, come by or something?”

She didn’t receive a response right away, Purrsephone seeming a bit dumbfounded by the proposal. She finally replied, “_N-No, I just…if you hear anything, o-or Frankie or the others says they got something, p-please let me know. Please.” _

The desperation in her voice made a lump appear in Cleo’s throat.

It brought back unpleasant memories for the mummy; thoughts that made her remember hearing the same desperation in her father’s voice when for years, he’d call every museum that was known to focus on Egyptian history, questioning them over and over if they happened to get a tomb with a mummy who matched her mother’s description…

“I will,” she said.

“_O-Okay,” _Purrsephone said, “_T-T-Thank you, Cleo…um, bye, I guess.” _

She hung up before Cleo could bid her goodbye as well. Cleo brought her iCoffin away from her ear and stared at it, still somewhat processing the information that had she had just received.

She jumped when she felt the warmth of Deuce’s hand cover hers. It was only then she realized her hands were shaking.

“Cleo, what’s wrong?” Deuce asked.

Him and Ghoulia grew worried at the sudden pallor Cleo had taken on. The blood seemed to have drained from her face, her stare becoming wide and blank like someone under possession. It wasn’t an expression that she could ever recall the mummy having; it was a disturbing site to be beheld.

Cleo looked to Deuce as her hand turned over and gripped his fingers tightly.

“Purrsephone said…” she whispered, “S-She said that Toralei…Toralei wasn’t actually sick today. Her foster parents saw her leave for school, and she just…never showed up. They don’t know where she is.”

Even with his eyes concealed behind his sunglasses, Cleo could see the horror flash in Deuce’s eyes. Ghoulia’s eyes became very small as her mouth fell open in shock.

“Oh, o-o-oh! Oh, shit, that’s horrible!” Deuce exclaimed, “Um, is there…something we can do?”

Cleo sighed, “She just said...call them if we saw or heard anything from her.”

She looked up at him, “Have you?”

Deuce shook his head, his lips pursing in a grimace. “N-No. I don’t…really tend to notice her unless she’s done something to bring attention to herself.”

“_I haven’t seen her either,” _Ghoulia spoke up.

The three of them sat in silence, shifting awkwardly in their seats. The feel of the atmosphere had taken a dramatic turn, it no longer seemed right to joke around and study with the knowledge they had just gained. Cleo looked down at her lap where her phone rested, uncharacteristically at a loss of words. It was still hard for her to grasp.

Toralei was missing. _Toralei _was gone.

She thought back to what Ruby and the other girls were talking about earlier, about Hellvira and the other two with her.

A chill ran down her spine, and she looked around the library fearfully, her stomach churning at the sudden horrible feeling they were being watched.

* * *

The moment he had gotten the call from 19th street, Senior Detective Irving Grindylow knew that he was in for quite the workload for the next few weeks.

In his two hundred and thirty-seven years, Grindylow had become no stranger to the ups and downs of unlife. He’d grown up in a bog in the Old World and at only fifteen had become the guardian to his younger brother after their parents had been killed when they got hit by a human’s ship. As a young man, half of his time had been spent trying to make ends meet at a meager fishing job while the other half was trying to run and hide from humans who invaded their species’ wetlands to try and hunt them down.

He’d been married thrice and fathered seven children, became the grandfather to fifteen, the great-grandfather to seven, and the great-great-grandfather to four. He’d worked in the police for a hundred and fifty years, the majority of it in his native home of Londoom while the last fourteen years was with Oregon’s justice department.

His time with the force had taught him a lot about himself, such as how he was one of the stronger stomachs among the detectives when it came to crime scenes, that he could go through two whole packs of cigarettes when he was extremely stressed (and how his wife Tallula hated kissing him when he did), and that he’d quickly learned to hate journalists with a burning passion. 

He’d also learned how to quickly spot when an event was likely going to bring in said vultures to town like a frenzy of sharks who smelled blood in the water.

Such as now.

Grindylow stared at the couple across the table in front of him, wearing his best neutral expression as he took out a pad and paper from his pocket.

“Mrs. Purrie, Mr. Purrie, I know this must be very overwhelming for you,” he said softly, “But I need as much information from you as I can. Now, start from the beginning; what time did you say your foster daughter left the house?”

The werecat couple sitting across from him looked like they could some rest as they tried to compose themselves. Meowrris, the husband, patted his wife’s hand to try and calm her down, though his wide-eyed, borderline manic stare made it clear he wasn’t that far off from losing it himself. Tabbytha, his wife, repeatedly grabbed tissues from the box as she wiped her eyes in a futile attempt to stop crying.

“I-It was five minutes past seven,” Tabbytha finally said in a sniffle, “I-I know because Sweet Fang kept scratching at the door to try and get out onto the patio and I had looked at the clock to see if I had enough time to let her out before I had to leave.”

“And you said she usually stays out later today? For some kind of school thing?” Grindylow asked.

Meowrris answered this time, “Toralei’s on the fearleading team. T-They usually have practice after school until four-thirty.”

Grindylow nodded in understanding, “How does she normally get to school and back? Does she have a car, take the bus, anything like that?”

Meowrris shook his head, “Usually, s-she walks. We don’t live that far from the school, and Tabby and I have to work early in the morning, so we’ve trusted her to have her own method of transport.”

He smiled humorlessly as a thought seemed to have come to him. “Tora’s always hated it,” he recalled, “She’s been begging us to buy her a car, but we didn’t see the point in putting on another payment when we’re in walking distance. She has a bike, but she complained that the exertion would mess up her look.”

Grindylow nodded, not saying anything to that comment. It was clear the werecat was talking to himself out of grief. Instead, he wrote a few notes on his pad.

“So she gets to school on her own,” he said, “And you said the school had reported her absent when you called to see if she was there?”

Both of them nodded. Tabbytha added, “I called her friends. They said they didn’t see her at all. T-They thought she may have been sick.”

“I see,” Grindylow said, “Not to demean your worry, Mrs. Purrie, but are you sure that this couldn’t just be a case of your daughter playing a little hooky for a day? Maybe she felt like having a little fun day to herself?”

“She didn’t run away,” Tabbytha hissed at him, her slit pupils narrowing to make her blue eyes seem larger as she glared at him. The anger quickly dissipated, though, replaced with defeat as she slumped against the back of her seat.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “It’s just…I-I _know _something happened to her. She’s been trying so hard this year- she’s been doing better in school, she helps out around the house, she’s been looking for a job- I just don’t believe she would go back to acting out like this out of the blue. Especially without even letting us know she’s okay.”

She suddenly looked at him wide-eyed, like a horrifying thought had just come to her.

“You don’t…you don’t think it could be connected to what happened Saturday? With those three kids that went missing?” she asked fearfully.

Meowrris looked at her, distraught. He put his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m afraid I can’t say anything about that, Mrs. Purrie. Not yet,” Grindylow replied, “But I assure you, my partner and I are going to do everything we can to find that out and find your daughter.”

They both nodded at him. Looking past them into the living room, Grindylow could see his partner, Firth, a cyborg, seated on the couch as he talked two a pair of twin werecat girls that he’d been told were Toralei’s best friends. They looked equally shaken up as they continually wiped at their eyes and tried to tell Firth what they knew; their parents sat beside them, patting their hands. Grindylow repressed a sigh.

He turned back to the couple.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. and Mrs. Purrie,” he said, getting up from his chair and pushing it in, “I know that I can’t do much right now to ease your minds, but rest assured, my department and I are going to do our best to find Toralei and bring her home.”

“T-T-Thank you detective,” Meowrris said gratefully, “Thank you so much.”

Him and Tabbytha stood up and shook his hand. They led him out of the kitchen as he put his notepad back into the pocket and looked into the living room.

“Firth,” he called out, “Let’s get going.”

Firth looked up at him and nodded, before he turned back to the twins.

“Well, thank you ladies,” he said warmly, “You’re both being very brave right now.”

The twins nodded numbly in response, neither really able to garner up much enthusiasm at his words. Firth gathered his hat and coat and put them on as him and Grindylow walked to the doorway.

As they stepped out, Tabbytha gripped the doorframe tightly and gave Grindylow a desperate look.

“Y-You’ll let us know if you find anything, right?” she asked, “Like, i-i-if you hear or see anything that could be hers?”

“I’ll be the first one to contact you,” Grindylow assured her. He wrote something down on his pad and tore it off to hand it to her, “If you have any questions or find something that you think could be of help, please call me at that number.”

Tabbytha held the scrap of paper to her chest like it was a saving grace to her. The detectives gave curt goodbyes, before they made their way down to the police car parked on the curb. Grindylow noticed a few neighbors watching from their porches or windows, probably both curious about the flashing lights and secretly hoping something would happen that they could gossip about to each other the next day. Nosy asses.

“So, what do you think?” Firth asked once they had buckled their seats.

Grindylow didn’t respond for a moment; he kept his gaze on the road in front of them as he steered the car through the neighborhood, the two of them intent on asking around to see if anyone had caught sight of the kid that could’ve given them a clue as to where she was.

“The parents asked me if this could be related to those kids from Friday night,” he finally replied.

Firth said, “The sisters said the same thing, too. What do you think?”

Grindylow pursed his lips, taking a second to think about it.

In truth, the second the department got the call, that had been his first thought as well. It was a natural assumption- three teenagers disappear all in one night, and then only a few days later, someone else from the exact same school who was the exact same age range as them (or, at least, two of them) also gone? It seemed too sudden to just be coincidence.

However, in all his years on the force, Grindylow also knew that even though unlikely, sometimes events were just that: coincidence. It wasn’t good detective work to just jump to conclusions without doing some digging first; in fact, sometimes jumping to conclusions was precisely what people relied on to get away with their dirty work, such as those who faked their deaths to get away with stealing their family’s inheritance, or someone who decided to end their all who wanted to make sure they were never found.

And considering the person in question, it wouldn’t be too far off it did turn out to be a case of bad timing. Although Toralei Stripe’s foster parents were insistent something had to have happened to her, they also had admitted during his questions that she wasn’t exactly a stranger to going off on her own. The ghoul had been a typical alley cat- abandoned as a kitten, in and out of foster care, pulled a few stunts that landed her in juvie. Said stunts included running away from home and skipping out on tutoring lessons to take her counselor’s car for a joyride.

Obviously, Grindylow didn’t know the kid, but he’d had plenty of run-ins with other teens headed down the wrong side of the tracks to know that many liked to do things on their own times. And for some, just because they went missing didn’t always mean they wanted to be found.

But again, he didn’t know her, and he’d just gotten informed of the situation not an hour ago. There was no telling what connections could or couldn’t be made after only ten minutes in someone else’s kitchen.

“I think we need to look around first, then get back to the station,” he finally answered Firth, “There’s already so much to consider, talking about it without looking anything over is just going to make us all confused.

“I do want to try and keep this under wraps for now, though,” he said, “Put out an alert, absolutely, but I’d rather not give those rats down at Channel 12 any opportunity to blow this out of proportion if this whole situation ends up blowing over within the next week or so.”

Firth nodded, though he added, “I feel like you’re going for a bit of wishful thinking with that short of a timeframe.”

“I always am,” Grindylow sighed, “We should get our notes from the Saturday case together. The Stripe girl’s in the system and the ‘rents said she did some time in juvenile hall, so we should see if we can pull up her file, see if there’s anything else in there that may stick out. Like if she has a history of frequenting a place or something.”

Firth nodded and jotted down some of the ideas on his own pad. Grindylow, meanwhile, became occupied in his own thoughts. He always hated these types of cases; he’d been working this job long enough to see some pretty awful shit, but missing persons cases were always a particular brand of depressing. If there wasn’t anything that made him feel worse than having to tell a parent that their child was dead, it was having to tell that they didn’t know jack shit and that the trail had gone cold.

He took his hand off the wheel to rub the skin between his eyes. He could feel the exhaustion start to creep up on him and settle over his shoulders like a thick blanket; he’d been up all night trying to get a lead on the Saturday case, only to come up at another dead end. It was times like this he truly felt his age.

Blinking away the subtle heaviness in his eyes, Grindylow brought his attention back to the road and pulled up on an empty spot on the curb. He reached over to unbuckle his seatbelt before he looked up at Firth.

“We’ll start at the end of the block, work our way around,” he explained, “Go door to door a few times to ask anyone if they’ve seen anything. That should help us start to build a trail of bread crumbs if we managed to land any witnesses.”

Firth nodded. He undid his seatbelt and opened his door, before him and Grindylow stepped out of the patrol car together. Grindylow locked it behind him and they started for the porch of the house that sat on the corner nearest to them.

Time to get to work.

* * *

“_You know, most people would take this as a means to relax.” _

“Do I seem like most people?” Clawdeen questioned as she balanced her phone between her cheek and shoulder, using her now-free hands to hold up both dresses and examined how they looked next to her figure in the mirror.

She could hear Romulus chuckle over the other end, “_You got a point there. But seriously, ‘Deen, take it easy. You’re going to wear yourself out if you don’t take a break at least once in a while.” _

Clawdeen smiled, “I’m a big wolf, Rom. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“_I’m your boyfriend, it’s my job to worry.” _

Right at that moment, Clawdeen was glad that Romulus was back at his house and that they were talking over the phone, so he couldn’t see the sudden blush that warmed her cheeks. It surprised her how just a simple statement managed to get her so flustered, yet he always managed to catch her off guard even without meaning to or trying. Was this what Draculaura had meant whenever she talked about the “little things” that always made you fall in love a little harder?

At his house, in his room, Romulus smiled from where he lay back on his bed. He knew the silence from Clawdeen’s end had meant she was feeling flattered by his little comment. It made him feel good knowing he was one of few people who managed to get her feel that way.

Deciding that neither dress really did anything for her, Clawdeen put them back and pulled out an open sleeve purple blouse.

“Relax, I’m going to take a break,” she assured as she held it up to her, before nodding and placing it on her bed, “I just want to get a few more things together for my portfolio and then I’ll be done. And then I just want to get my clothes for school tomorrow ready.”

Romulus smiled. “Of course. Always have to be one step ahead. Although, you could probably show up in sweats and your brother’s raggedy old t-shirt and still manage to make it seem like you walked off the cover of Harpy’s Boozaar.”

“Ugh, no thanks,” Clawdeen wrinkled her nose, “Thanks for the compliment, but I’d also not risk everyone thinking I also spent a night in the dumpster.”

She heard him chuckle, before they lapsed into peaceful silence. Clawdeen moved around her room, grabbing a pair of leggings from her drawer and placing them on the bed along with the blouse. She knelt down and dug around under the bed skirt for a pair of shoes, pulling out her new golden ankle boots. She frowned when she saw they were slightly scuffed. _Howleen, _she mentally growled. Romulus, meanwhile, kept his phone pressed to one ear as he absentmindedly tossed a ball up in the air, staring at his ceiling.

As she placed the boots at the foot of her bed, she heard Romulus sigh. Clawdeen reached up to hold her phone with her hand again.

“_What’re you thinking of, baby?” _he heard her ask from her end.

Romulus shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “Just…thinking,” he said, “About school. College. Us.”

Clawdeen paused. A second later, she asked, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Romulus replied, running a hand through his hair, “I mean, I know we both agreed to keep this on the down-low until we both felt we were sure of where this was going to go, but…we can’t keep this a secret forever, Clawdeen. I mean, I’m pretty sure my folks are on to me, and I’d rather not wait until I’m all the way in Cali away to set the record straight with your brother. I think it’s time we come clean to everyone.”

Clawdeen let out a sigh of her own.

“I know,” she said softly.

In truth, she’d been thinking something along the same lines for a while. They’d been together for almost four months, after all, so it was, admittedly, starting to get a little ridiculous that they were still keeping everything a secret from everyone. When Romulus had initially asked her out back in July, they had both agreed to take their time, to make sure that they were going about this the right way and that it wasn’t just their familiarity with each other that brought on this attraction. She also didn’t want to deal with the group constantly harping on her about finally finding “the one”, even with Lagoona sticking to her word about keeping quiet.

Now, though, as time went on and they started to get more comfortable in their dynamic and she watched her friends go on with their relationships, she found herself starting to yearn to be able to display that same affection with Romulus in public. There was no reason for them to keep continuing in silence like it was some horrible taboo; it was going to just be silly as time went on.

“We will, eventually,” she added, “I just want to make sure it’s not framed where people can take it the wrong way. The ghouls I’m fine about, but I did kind of jump down Clawd’s throat when he started dating Laura and Howleen…well, you remember what I told you about the Full Moon Festival.”

“They might take it the wrong way anyway if they hear it from someone else who saw something,” Romulus pointed out, “It’s better they hear it right from the source so there’s no miscommunication.”

“We will,” Clawdeen repeated, “Eventually, we will.”

As he listened to her get the rest of her outfit together, Romulus smiled.

“And hey,” he said jokingly, “At least your friends are interested in your best interests. I can’t imagine how much Clawd will want to skin my ass when he finds out-“

At that moment, his gaze fell upon his window.

Romulus stopped.

Clawdeen paused in looking through her ring holder, noting how he’d suddenly cut himself off.

“Rom? Baby?” she said, “You okay?”

Romulus sat up on his bed; he kept his eyes locked onto the window as he slowly slid his feet over the edge and got to his feet. He crept over to his window, his movements silent and stealthy, like the true predator within him.

_“Romulus?” _he heard Clawdeen say again, “_Everything all right?” _

He got to his windowsill. The only things he could see was the lights on in the houses next door. Other than that, it was pitch black.

“Uh, yeah,” Romulus finally answered, “I just thought I…saw a really weird bird or something…”

He undid the lock and pushed the window frame up, grasping the sill as he leaned his head out and looked side to side.

The dim glow of the streetlight and the neighbor’s front porch greeted him on the right, while the big tree that rested on the side of his house, the backyard, and the forest beyond were at his left. He could hear the chirp of the crickets and the occasional flock of bird wings from the forest, while the familiar scent of wet grass and wood greeted his nostrils. Still, nothing out of the ordinary.

“A bird?” Clawdeen chuckled, “Wow, how exciting.”

Romulus leaned back into his room, eyeing the window warily. He muttered, “I could’ve sworn there was something there. Like, some big white beak was right there…”

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Nevermind. I think all this stress from finals is getting to me.”

Clawdeen smirked. “_And you tell **me **to relax.” _

Finally turning his back on the window, Romulus headed back to his bed. He chuckled, “You got me there.”

As he continued talking on the phone with Clawdeen, he failed to notice a dark shape rise up from underneath the window outside.

It watched him through the glass, silently following him as he walked across the room. Hovering just outside the sill, it used the shadows to remain out of sight, allowing the darkness to cloak it’s black-clad figure and its ivory white beaked-shape mask. Eyes hidden by glass lenses followed the silver werewolf’s every move, like that of a hungry predator waiting for the right time to lunge at its prey.

A low, soft growl came from the figure.

“Soon,” it muttered to itself.

Silently, it floated back away from the house, sinking into the shadows cast by the trees. Its cloak made not even a flutter as it slipped into the darkness, leaving not a trace of itself behind as it did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the pacing and overall tone is a little off. I feel like, save for the Toralei part, this chapter came off as mostly filler; not my original intent, but I made some changes from the outline I was originally going for and felt like I needed to devote some time for introducing new faces. I promise, though, next chapter is where the ball really starts to get rolling.


	6. Chapter 5: When the Moon Shines Red

Grindylow sat at his desk, his fists against his temples as he poured over the documents that lay out on the desk in front of him. One of them was the report from two weeks ago, documenting what they found- or more so, failed to find- when searching for the three missing teens at Devilman’s Park. The other was a series of notes of the info him and Firth had gathered regarding Toralei Stripe.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered to himself, “There’s just no explanation for this…”

“You talking to yourself again, ‘low?” Firth joked as he walked over, two steaming cups of coffee in his hand, “You know, you keep doing that, and Tallulah’s going to be on your case again about too much over time.”

“It just makes no damn sense, Firth,” Grindylow said, “Look at this.”

He picked up the report from last Saturday and pointed to one sentence he’d highlighted. “They brought out search and rescue dogs to try and see if they could locate a trail to follow. Which they were able to, until following the Surrey kid’s scent, they suddenly stopped at a bench. Like it just went cold after that.

“How do you explain that?” he questioned, “Nobody, not the dogs or the werewolves or werecats- species that have _advanced _senses of smell and hearing- could follow on this trail. It’s like it just stops. The hell is up with that?”

Firth shrugged, “Scents can fade over time. Especially if it rained over the night, then even those with a good nose have trouble tracking it. And considering those kids possibly went all over the park on their run, they could’ve been mistaken on where it ended and began.”

“That’s the weird thing, though,” Grindylow argued, “It’s not only them. I asked Ossory to see if they could track the Stripe girl’s scent, and he said it suddenly stopped on the corner a block over by her house. It doesn’t go east, north, west, or anywhere at all. It just stops, like she just vanishes from that point.”

Firth pursed his lips in thought. “You think we have a car abduction going on here? Like the whole white van out of the movies, type scenario?”

“I don’t know,” Grindylow sat back in his chair, “Spelleston says he couldn’t find any detection of magic or spells being used in either scene, but besides that, there’s no other explanation for how they just vanished in the middle of the park.”

He grabbed his chin, his thick brows furrowing and a frown making its way onto his lined face as he failed to try and come up with a rational explanation. Firth just walked over and silently put down one of the steaming cups down next to him.

Their attention was suddenly drawn downward as they were alerted to a chorus of loud beeping from each of their pagers going off. They simultaneously grabbed them from their pockets and glanced down at the message they’d received.

Grindylow’s face twisted in a grimace.

“Oh god, come on,” he said tiredly as he stood up from his chair. He swiped his wallet and badge from the desk as headed towards the door. Firth trailed after him, his expression equally grim.

They gathered their coats and made their way out to Firth’s patrol car. After they got in, Grindylow switched on the lights, which bathed everything they passed in a glow of blue and red as they pulled out the lot and started driving back towards New Salem.

* * *

“Hey, Lala, are we weird for not looking alike?”

Draculaura looked up from her laptop in surprise. Fangelica lay on her stomach at the foot of her bed, a coloring book splayed out in front of her as she scribbled in it her crayons. The young vampire messily colored in a picture of a flower, before she looked up at Draculaura with curiosity.

“What do you mean?” Draculaura asked.

Fangelica shrugged, “I heard these girls talking in class. One of them was saying how you can tell when someone’s siblings aren’t their ‘real’ siblings because she said, according to her mom, ‘one of them looks like dad and the other looks like the neighbor Mama’s really good friends with’.”

_How rude, _Draculaura thought.

“Well, it’s not definitely not weird for us,” she responded, shutting her laptop, “After all, you and me were adopted, so it wouldn’t make a lot of sense for us to look alike if we came from different families. But that doesn’t mean we’re not ‘real’ siblings. I mean, we still engage in sisterly activities, don’t we?”

Fangelica nodded.

“Plus, even biological siblings can look different,” Laura pointed out, “Look at your friend Barker and his brothers and sister. They’re sextuplets, but they don’t look very much alike. But that doesn’t mean they’re not siblings. Barker just looks like his dad while Pawla takes more after their mom. It’s all just a matter of genetics working in funny ways, Fangie.”

_Speaking of which, _she thought as she looked down at her phone, pouting as she opened her lock screen, to see that Clawd had still yet to text her back like he said he would. What was taking him so long? It had to have been at least an hour. He said he would call her as soon as him and Romulus got to the town center where the committee meeting for the Werewolf Coalition Board was being held. 

Part of her knew she was being silly, but she couldn’t help but worry a little. The town center was quite a bit out of the way, and Romulus admitted he wasn’t all that familiar with the route. Clawd told her he’d let her know when they got there in order to assure her they had made it there safely. Yet, even after they had to have long since gotten to the town center, she still had heard nothing. It wasn’t like him to not to follow up with her.

Fangelica must’ve seen her worry, because she smiled cheekily and asked, “Thinking about your boyfriend?”

Draculaura smirked at her and nudged her arm with her foot. “Oh, wouldn’t _you _like to know?”

As if on cue, her phone suddenly rang. A wave of relief went through the petite vampire as she caught a glimpse of _Claw_ on the screen and picked it up, hitting “call” as she put it to her ear.

“Oh, finally!” she said happily, “I was wondering when I was going to hear back from you. I was starting to think you decided to forget about me!”

_“D-Draculaura,” _Clawdeen’s teary, shaky voice said from the other end.

Laura froze.

Any splendor she’d been feeling at finally hearing from her boyfriend immediately was doused out by a cold wave of fear as she heard the unusual fear in her best friend’s voice.

“Clawdeen? W-What’s wrong?” she asked.

_“T-The police are at my house,” _Clawdeen whimpered, _“T-They said they found Romulus’ car crashed in the woods, b-but there was nobody in it. And I can’t get a hold of him or Clawd.” _

Something sharp pierced Draculaura’s chest. Her eyes widened in horror. _He never forgets to text me back, _she thought with a terrifying realization.

_No…_

“C-Clawdeen…”

_“Can you come over?” _Clawdeen asked. Her tone was pitiful and almost child-like.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Laura answered, “Of course I will, darling. I’m on my way.”

Hanging up, she shoved her phone in her pants’ pocket before she launched herself off the bed, stumbling as she struggled to balance her way as her feet hit the carpet. Fangelica pushed herself up in surprise.

“Lala?” she called out as her sister darted from the room. “Lala, where are you going?!”

Large echoes boomed through the vast expanse of the mansion as Laura pounded down the staircase. She hit the floor and immediately ran for the front door, swiping her purse and her coat on the way.

“Draculaura, is that you?” she heard Ramoanah call from the kitchen, “What’s with all the noise?”

Laura didn’t answer her. She dove to grab her keys from the key rack.

“I’ll explain later!” she said over her shoulder as she undid the lock and swung the front door open, sparing it only a glance to make sure it closed behind her before she ran for her car and unlocked it.

_No, no, no, not him, _she thought hurriedly as she peeled out of the driveway and pressed on the gas, _Not him. Please not him. Not him, not him, not him, not him…_

It didn’t take her long to get to the Wolf household, especially considering she knew she was going way too fast, her tires squealing as she made sharp jerks around corners and waited only a fraction of a second at stop signs. Laura ignored the reading of the speedometer, though, as her mind focused only on getting to Clawdeen’s house and praying that what she thought had happened turned out to be just one big misunderstanding.

That little hope sank as she rounded the corner and saw the dark blue police cruiser parked on the curb of the Wolf house.

She jerked to a stop on the curb in front of the house on the corner next to theirs and turned her car off, not even bothering to lock it as she ripped the keys from the ignition and raced inside.

Dread filled her stomach as she rushed through the front entryway to find the living room filled with several werewolves. Clawdeen, Howleen, and their brothers all sat around on the couches and the floor.

From the entryway into the kitchen, Draculaura could see Clawrk and Harriet seated at the kitchen table, both of them looking deathly pale and badly shaken as they talked with a lake monster detective. Another pair of werewolves that she recognized as Romulus’s parents stood near the counter, a cyborg detective talking with them as he wrote things down on a notepad. Romulus’s mom was crying hard, pausing between talking with the detective to wipe at her puffy eyes with a ball of tissue; his dad wore a pained expression as he rubbed her back in an attempt of comfort.

Her eyes trailed back to the living room, making contact with Clawdeen’s bright gold ones.

Clawdeen stared at her for a second, before she bolted up from her seat and ran towards the petite vampire. Draculaura held out her arms and caught her in a tight embrace, where she gently tried to soothe Clawdeen as the werewolf cried into her hair.

“W-W-We got a call Rom’s mom,” she said, “S-S-She said they’d gotten a call from the cops c-cuz they found Rom’s car. T-They said it had run off the road a-a-and crashed against a tree. A-A-And t-there was blood, b-but neither of them were there, a-a-and there weren’t any footprints leading anywhere. I-I-It’s like they just vanished, a-a-and oh, god. Oh, God, Laura…”

“Shhh,” Draculaura said, rubbing her back.

Clawdeen whined and sobbed into her sleeve. She pulled back, however, and looked at Laura with tear-filled eyes.

“D-D-Did he text you at all?” she asked, “M-Maybe call you and say something had come up?”

The look in her eyes tore at Draculaura. The petite vampire swallowed hard, tears pricking the corner of her own eyes as she regretfully shook her head.

“I-I was wondering what was taking him so long,” she said in a small voice, “I-I thought when you called me, it was finally him…”

She trailed off as a deep, gut-wrenching feeling of terror settled upon her. It suddenly felt as if the temperature of the room had dropped fifty degrees as Draculaura shivered. Clawdeen’s eyes widened with despair.

Over in the kitchen, they could bits of the conversation Clawrk and Harriet were having with the detective.

“…may have swerved- possibly to avoid an animal or maybe got in some bad weather- and just lost control of the vehicle,” Grindylow tried to assure them, “We see cases like this all the time. Someone gets a head injury and they wander off trying to find help and get lost because they’re disoriented. Some of our officers are out in the woods right now, searching to see if they can catch up if that was the case.”

“That…that’s good,” Clawrk answered, although neither him nor Harriet seemed very convinced that that was the case.

Suddenly, Draculaura jumped at the sound of a harsh ringtone breaking the tension of the room. She pulled away from Clawdeen to look towards the love seat, where Clawrk’s iCoffin was vibrating on the table.

The detectives paused in talking to both sets of parents to look into the living room. Clawrk called out with irritation, “One of you get that, please.”

Howleen, looking on edge, reached over to his phone and looked at the screen, before she pressed the call button and put it to her ear.

“Hello?’ she answered, “Oh, h-hi, Mrs. Hairris….um, my dad can’t really come to the phone, he’s-wait…what? I-I-I-n-no, I haven’t….I think, about an hour ago? An hour and a half?...A-Are you sure?...O-Oh, no…”

Draculaura, Clawdeen, and the boys’ attention immediately went to her. Howleen’s face seemed to completely drain of blood as she listened to the woman on the other end. Draculaura looked to Clawdeen.

“Hairris…?” she asked.

“Dougey’s mom,” Clawdeen clarified.

They turned back to Howleen, whose eyes had widened to the size of dragon eggs. Her hand gripped her dad’s phone tightly to the point that her knuckles had turned right; it looked almost like she was about to break the phone in half.

“…O-Okay, um, I-I actually have someone here you should talk to…” Howleen answered in a small voice.

She got up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen.

“U-Um, Dad,” she said, “I-I think you need to hear this.”

Clawrk’s head raised in concern at the scared tone in her voice. Warily, he took the phone from her.

“Hello?” he greeted, “Fauve? What’s wrong?...I see…”

Draculaura’s panic grew as she watched his jaw tighten. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down like he had a rock in his throat. Harriet put a hand on his arm in worry. Clawrk’s head shot up to look straight at the detective; the latter raised his head in surprise.

“Detective, I think you should hear this,” Clawrk said warily, before speaking back into the phone, “Fauve, hold on, I have the police here with me right now.”

He handed the phone to Grindylow, who gave him a confused look before he talked.

“Hello, how can I help you ma’am?” he asked, listening in. His eyes widened, before he grabbed his pen and rapidly began jotting notes down.

“Ma’am, slow down. Say that again,” he ordered, “Okay…and when was the last time you saw them? Okay, how long ago was that?...And you said it was just the two of them?...Was there any sign of forced entry?...No, don’t worry ma’am, help is on the way….No, we’ll be there right away…”

Clawdeen tilted her head in confusion.

“What the hell was that?” she asked Howleen.

Howleen slowly stared up at her. Her eyes were nearly the size of dollar coins.

“D-Dougey’s mom says…t-that he was alone at their house with his ghoulfriend. H-Her and his dad came back, but Dougey and Ascena were gone. She…she says they found a puddle of blood upstairs…”

Draculaura and Clawdeen went pale.

“She asked i-if I’d talked to him within the time they were gone,” Howleen rambled on, “I had only just talked to him a few hours ago. He said him and Ascena didn’t feel like going out and…and…o-oh god, not him, too…Oh gods, _oh god…” _

The tan wolf couldn’t finish her sentence, before her face crumpled with despair, and the most devastating wail Draculaura had ever heard escaped her as she started bawling.

“Howleen,” Clawdeen mumbled with a thick voice. She, too, started crying again as she swept up her crying sister in her arms, Howleen hugging her back tightly as the two of them sank to the floor. Their broken sobs echoed throughout the house.

Draculaura hovered over them, unsure of what to do. Something was telling her to try and comfort them, but she couldn’t find the words. Panic was steadily growing in her; she didn’t know what to do. Nothing sounded right, no possible action seemed to be the best. She didn’t know what to do, _she didn’t know what to do. _

“Girls…” she said weakly, her heart feeling like it was tearing in two at the sight of the two crying wolves.

Clawd was gone, Romulus was gone, someone else was gone, and now her best friend and her little sister were here crying and she didn't know what to do.

Unable to keep her composure, Draculaura wrapped her arms around Clawdeen, and together the three of them wept, the younger Wolf brothers staring at them with their ears back in helplessness.

* * *

_The next day…_

“…which is why we as the staff must emphasize the importance of safety and making sure you take the necessary steps to protect yourself,” Mr. Rotter said gravely as he stood before the Dead Languages class, “Be aware of your surroundings, don’t go anywhere without letting your family or friends know of your location first, and do not give out any private information to strangers. We have yet to know the circumstances of what happened to Clawd and Romulus or their packmates, but we must do what we can to help ourselves and each other, so that these incidents do not happen again.”

Frankie slumped back against her chair, twiddling her pencil between her fingers nervously at the topic at hand. The class was unusually quiet, with every student unusually attentive today. Nobody was even passing notes or texting on their phones.

The night before and this morning had been a whirlwind of emotion and speculation. She’d hardly gotten any sleep- right as she was getting into bed last night, she’d received a call from a hysterical Draculaura, who had told her through her heavy sobs that Clawd and Romulus had gone missing after what was supposed to be just a drive over to the next town.

The news had kept Frankie up all night, paranoia making her break out into a cold sweat as she spared continuous glances at the window, afraid she was going to doze off for the briefest of moments and wake up to find someone standing over her.

Her anxiety over the revelation had only worsened once she got to school to learn that in addition to the boys, Romulus’ friend Dougey, his girlfriend Ascena, and Silvi had also been reported missing by this morning as well.

That made nine students having disappeared within two weeks. Five of which occurred all in one night.

The thought alone sent chills down her spine. Frankie looked out the window, half-expecting to find some ominous figure staring back at her like something out of a horror movie.

“I bet it was those normies over in the next town,” a dragon next to her sneered, “They’ve always been up to no good. They probably wanted to get back at us after all that shit that went down last Halloween.”

“Please, they would’ve been torn to pieces the second they messed with a vampire,” a butterfly cryptid refuted, “I bet it was someone from this school. Maybe they’re planning some school-shooter level shit or something, trying to get infamous.”

“Weren’t, like, four of them werewolves? What if it was someone in their pack? Like, some ritualistic sacrifice, or whatever gory stuff those dog people are into,” another student suggested. Frankie and a few werewolf students frowned at the derogatory insinuation.

“That’s quite enough,” Mr. Rotter said sharply, “All of you have some compassion. These are your fellow classmates, some of who have friends and family here worried sick about them. If you want to entertain whatever rumors are spawned from this with your friends on your own time, then that’s on you, but I will not tolerate gossip of any kind in my classroom. Is that understood?”

The students nodded, some of them surprised by the phantom’s tone. “Yes, Mr. Rotter.”

“Good,” Mr. Rotter said, turning to the chalkboard, “Now, please, get out your homework assignments and we can get started with the lesson.”

The classroom quickly filled with the familiar sound of rustling backpacks and zipper teeth as students pulled out notebooks and folders. Frankie bent over, digging around for her Dead Languages book, when something out of the corner of her eye made her look over her shoulder.

Something heavy settled in her chest as she looked back to see the empty desk that sat behind her to the right. It was one that Toralei usually occupied. She turned away from it, unable to keep her gaze on it while she thought about how the werecat was still nowhere to be found; Meowlody and Purrsephone hadn’t said much, but from what she’d heard, the police hadn’t had much of a lead. 

After the bell rang, she gathered up her things and shuffled out the classroom with the other students to see Holt waiting for her by the lockers.

“Hey, Frankenfine,” he greeted, though his voice lacked the usual playfulness.

“Hi,” Frankie said back, leaning into him as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to his side. He took her things and held them as they began to walk towards the creepateria.

“You hear about Clawd?” Holt asked, unusually despondent.

“Yeah,” Frankie muttered, “I just…can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know,” Holt replied, “You can practically taste the tension in the air. I’ve never seen so many on their guard before.”

As if to emphasize his words, the creepateria was unusually quiet as they entered. Students still went about chatting, but it was obviously not with the same energy as most days. Most kept their heads down, like they didn’t want to risk looking anyone in the eye, and those that did converse with their friends did it in small, hushed tones instead of the usual loud chatter.

Spotting their friends’ group at their usual table, Holt and Frankie made their way over. All of them looked a little worse for wear as they picked at their food mindlessly. Deuce, Gil, Slow Moe, and Heath had joined the group as well, their arms thrown tightly around their ghoulfriends protectively. Noticeably absent from the table were Draculaura and Clawdeen.

“Hey, Frankie,” Lagoona greeted half-heartedly as the simulacrum and Holt sat down.

“Hi,” Frankie replied, “How’s, um, everyone holding up?”

Cleo sighed, “Not well. This whole morning’s been feeling like everyone’s walking on eggshells.”

“Yeah,” Frankie looked down at her lap sadly, “Poor Clawdeen. I can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now.”

Abbey looked at her. “She speak to you at all?”

Frankie shook her head, “Everything I know was what Draculaura told me. I tried texting or calling her, but all I’ve gotten is silence.”

“I mean, can you blame her?” Heath asked, “Her brother and someone she’s known since childhood are missing. She’s probably still processing it all. I know I wouldn’t want or be able to focus on algorithms if my sister disappeared.”

“I just…can’t believe this happened,” Deuce spoke up, “I mean, I know those other three kids went missing a few weeks ago, but after Toralei, and now since it’s Clawd and Rom, the whole thing actually feels…I don’t know, _real_ for the first time. That probably sounds weird, but…I don’t know.”

“_It was easy for us to brush it off with Harper and them because we don’t know them that well,” _Ghoulia pointed out, “_Now, though, it’s affected us because it’s people we are friends with, so we’re feeling the effects beyond just a dismissive ‘Oh, that’s unfortunate.’” _

They all nodded in agreement, before they lapsed into glum silence. Nobody seemed really in the mood for talking. It wasn’t until Holt spoke up, though, that the talking resumed.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that,” he said, “And I can’t help but wonder…”

He trailed off, like he wasn’t sure to entertain the thought. Everyone looked up at him, their curiosity piqued.

“Wonder what?” Gil asked.

Holt furrowed his brows in thought. “I wonder,” he continued, “You don’t…you don’t think Van Hellscream as something to do with it, do you?”

They all froze.

The former monster hunter’s name was one that none of them had thought about for quite a long time. After the whole fiasco during the monstergration and the incident of that year’s Halloween, everyone had continued about their unlives, content knowing that the blonde menace was trapped in his stone prison, unable to bring harm to anyone else or tear any other unlives apart.

There had been temporary panic when Frankie and Jackson announced the revelation Lilith had given them of him being freed, but the worry had flitted away in a matter of days, once they’d learned of the tight leash that the police and the Council of Monster-Human relations kept him on. Without his high status, his fancy artifacts or his research, and his image now tarnished and promoted across all kinds of media alerting others of his past misdeeds, Van Hellscream quickly went from being regarded as a potential threat for many students to just another washed out human who’d just have to stew in his hatred. He was powerless. He couldn’t hurt them.

Until Holt brought it up now.

Everyone stared at him, too shocked to say anything, before Deuce finally asked lowly, “What are you talking about?”

Holt leaned in, “I’ve been thinking. Don’t you think this timing is a little suspicious? I mean, he gets unstoned after a whole year of being stuck as a catacombs ornament, and then only a little while after he’s finally free, then people from _our _school- the school he tried to ignite a race war and whose staff and student body were responsible for capturing him in the first place- suddenly start disappearing out of thin air?”

He leaned back and crossed his arms. “If you ask me, I think something’s a little fishy.”

“Van Hellscream doesn’t have any of that stuff anymore,” Gil argued, “Jackson said that Lilith told him that all his monster stuff got taken away once they learned of his and Crabgrass’s plan. That, and now that he’s found a job, he’s out of state most of the time.”

“Yeah, _allegedly,_” Holt argued under his breath.

That made them all stare at him in confusion. Cleo frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Holt shrugged, “I’m just saying, Lilith is the only person we’ve been getting these updates from. And considering she _is _his family, there’s always the chance we’re not getting the whole story.”

Frankie frowned, “You know she’s not like that, Holt. She doesn’t have those views anymore.”

“_She_ probably doesn’t, but he definitely does,” Holt argued, “Even if she claims they don’t get along or whatnot, they’re still family. And considering our parents, I’m sure everyone here can relate to the crazy things we’re willing to do for family.”

Frankie stared at him, surprised. Where was all of this coming from? Holt had never said anything about Lilith like this before. All the times they hung out, he acted perfectly fine around the blonde human. It confused her where these accusations had suddenly come about.

She was about to respond with just as much, but was stopped as Lagoona said, “Can we please stop talking about this? I’m sorry, but all this talk about missing persons and a possible culprit is giving me the willies.”

“Agreed,” Abbey said, “Is not right to conspire about disappeared friends at lunch table like they are latest tittle-tattle in garbage tabloid.”

Holt held his hands up.

“Okay,” he said, “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

He dropped his hands and turned his attention to his backpack to dig out his lunch. The others followed in suit, although Frankie still shot him occasional glances out of the corner of her eye. The whole exchange had greatly confused her.

Before she could further dwell on it, however, she was distracted by a small sniffling sound behind her. Her and the others raised their heads to see Ari floating by, wiping at her eyes. Her cheeks and clothes were glowing from ectoplasm tears that dripped from her face.

Frankie remembered that her and Silvi had just started dating a few months ago. A pang of sorrow went through her for the ghost.

“Hey, Ari, over here,” Lagoona called, giving a small wave at her.

Ari paused and looked towards them. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“Oh, h-hi guys,” she greeted, “Sorry that I look a mess, I’ve just been having a bad day.”

Her voice cracked as she said the last few words, and she blinked rapidly like she was about to start crying again.

“It’s okay, love, you don’t have to explain yourself,” Lagoona said softly, “Would you like to sit with us? You look like you could use the company right now.”

Sniffling again, Ari gave a small nod and settled in between Abbey and Cleo. Lagoona handed her a few tissues, which she took with a small comment of thanks as she dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose.

“Oh, bloody hell, look at me,” Ari said a moment later, a humorless smile on her face, “My mum wanted me to come to school because she thought it might help me get my mind off Silvi, but then I heard about the others and now I can’t stop bawling like a banshee.”

“Your ghoulfriend was reported missing, I doubt anyone can blame you for having a lot of emotions,” Cleo said sternly.

“I know,” Ari said. She looked down at her lap with sorrow as she fiddled with the tissue in her hands, her lip quivering like she was about to start crying again.

“I just…feel like I should be doing something to help look for her, but I don’t know what,” she said quietly, “I’m feel like I’m losing my mind- having to sit here and not being able to do anything but think about whatever could’ve happened to her or where she could be.”

The group nodded in understanding, all of them silently thinking the same thing.

Here they were, sitting down and trying to eat lunch. Meanwhile, their friends had vanished without a trace of where they’d gone, and the only thing they could do in the moment was pray for their safe return, and try not to let their imaginations run wild with all the horrible potential scenarios that possibly befell them.

It was one of the worst feelings in the world.

* * *

Meanwhile, only a few miles over in the human part of town, the students of New Salem High school were getting a similar lecture from their teachers.

“I know that a lot of are you going to probably brush this off because it is happening at the cryptid school,” the homeroom teacher said, her brows furrowed with concern, “But it’s imperative that you all take these kinds of things seriously. Just because they may not have happened to you personally doesn’t mean you are still not at risk.”

Lilith twisted her pencil, shifting in her seat uncomfortably at the subject matter. Around her, the rest of the class listened with varying levels of interest. She leaned over to see Clair staring at the teacher with a mix of confusion and surprise at the news, while Chad’s brows were raised with alarm. Clearly, this was the first time that either of them had heard of the sudden disappearances that had happened at Monster High.

It was her first time hearing of this as well, but Lilith was nervous for a different reason. When the teacher had first revealed when the first trio of students had gone missing, her mind immediately jumped to a particular person.

_Could he be planning something? _she thought, _Is that why he suddenly cancelled dinner with Mom on Thursday? But…no, that couldn’t be. He was all the way in California for the conference. There was no way he could’ve gotten back here and done it in a matter of a few hours. _

_Unless he had the means possible to teleport…but that’s not possible! Everything he’d collected, the Council took. Unless…there were some things he’d hidden away that they never he had. Or…or someone like Dad kept them for him…_

Her grip on her pencil tightened.

She was suddenly interrupted from her thoughts as the teacher finished and someone behind her spoke up.

“Whoa, missing monster students?” the girl said, “I’ve never heard of that before.”

Lilith shot her a look over her shoulder, grimacing at the amazed tone of the girl’s voice. “Missing persons cases aren’t exactly anything new.”

“Yeah, but you always hear _human _cases,” the girl said, “Not monsters. I mean, a lot of them have powers and stuff that makes them hard to hurt and stuff. So, if someone is kidnapping them or something- if that’s the reason they’re missing- they’d have to be good at it. It’s just weird, that’s all. I mean, the only person I know who has enough knowledge of that is someone like your family, Lilith.”

Lilith narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to respond. Before she could say anything, however, she was interrupted by a boy who sat in the back of the room.

“Well, good for them,” he said, “It’s about time someone finally did something with those freaks. The less of them around, the better.”

Everyone turned sharply in their seats to look at him, many of them stunned.

“Excuse me, Jason,” the teacher scolded with a frown.

“That’s disgusting,” one girl remarked, “Shame on you.”

“What? I’m being honest,” the boy exclaimed, “Why should we care what happens to those abominations? After all the shit they’ve done, they deserve to have a taste of their own medicine. Let someone make them feel afraid for once.”

“Those ‘abominations’ are someone’s child or children,” Chad said angrily, “They have feelings and families just like you.”

“Yeah, and some of them are killers,” the boy said smugly, “Killers who’ve been around for centuries. Hell, some of them are probably responsible for many of the human missing cases!”

To Lilith’s chagrin, some of the students shrugged and nodded, like they could see his point.

“Most of Monster High’s students are the same age as us,” Clair snapped, “You don’t even know who went missing. For god’s sake, you met them at the Halloween party last year! You know they’re not like that!”

“Maybe not all of them, but enough of them,” the boy said coldly, “Enough of them that I know if they decided they were going to wage war on us tomorrow, we wouldn’t stand a chance. I mean, Lilith can probably vouch for that personally. Look at what they did to her uncle.”

Lilith glared at him silently.

“All right, that’s enough,” the teacher said.

Clair and Chad glared at the boy for a few more seconds, before they turned around. Lilith, however, remained fuming as she turned in her seat and stared straight ahead.

_Just look at what they did to her uncle_.

Though part of her annoyance was at being randomly thrown into the mixture, that wasn’t what mainly bothered her.

What bothered her was the fact that she’d had the same thought when the teacher told them the news.

Her uncle was a monster expert- he had extensive knowledge and education about all different types of monster species- from their biologies, to their cultures, to their history.

Part of that extensive knowledge was also monster weaknesses; how you could ward them off and what guaranteed an immediate kill.

Nine students at a monster high school were missing. Said monster high school was where her uncle had served as administrator for three to four months, before he was petrified and remained in stone for over a year after he was discovered trying to ignite another monster-vampire war.

Maybe it was all coincidence. Maybe she was being unfair in immediately pointing the finger and it was just the constant fighting she’d had with Uncle Lawrence making her biased. Maybe the incidents weren’t even related at all, through some strange chance.

But, at the same time, they were Van Hellscreams. Nothing was ever coincidence with them.

Lilith balled her fists.

She didn’t want to believe her uncle was responsible. Even now, with all their fighting, there was still a part of her who struggled to correlate the loving, tender man who used her hoist her up on his shoulders and tell her bedtime stories of the near-death experiences he escaped with the man who actually tried to kill an innocent woman and four teenaged girls and sowed the seeds of interspecies conflict.

But the facts were laid out in front of her, and it wasn’t hard to see how they could’ve been connected.

A brief wave of nausea came over her. Lilith squashed it down.

_Well, there’s not much you can do now, _a voice inside her head told her as she glanced at the clock.

Sighing, Lilith rested her cheek in her hand and stared blankly at the whiteboard as the teacher wrote on it, tapping her foot impatiently at the slow procession of homeroom.

* * *

The cat boy wasn’t going to last much longer. That much was obvious.

The Masked Man took a step back, observing his work. Moorey laid stretched out on the cot, his wrists and ankles tied together so that he couldn’t move. He was stripped down to his boxers, allowing the Masked Man to see the defined muscles in his arms, legs, and chest. Right now, the young puma’s abdomen sported several deep gashes going down his ribs and stomach. They bled heavily, staining his grey fur dark red creating a small puddle of blood that dripped beneath the cot.

“Please…please stop,” Moorey begged, looking up pleadingly, “Please, I’ll do whatever you want, just no more.”

“I’ve already told you what I want,” the Masked Man said curtly, “You have yet to show it to me.”

It was pitiful. All this time, and not one growl or baring of teeth or any attempt for the boy to fight back. Instead, all he got was a sniveling little kitten. He supposed he couldn’t be too surprised. He had read that pumas were rather reclusive and shied away from humans. Perhaps he’d had his expectations too high and let the memory of the puma woman bias him to thinking they all had that strength, that means to escape. 

“P-P-Please!” Moorey sobbed, “Please, I have a family! They’ll give you anything, just please let me go-o-o-o!”

The Masked Man shook his head, “The women didn’t cry nearly as much as you. They at least showed me they’re still connected to their roots, even if it’s just by a few threads.

“You, on the other hand,” he said, gesturing to him with the bloodstained knife. Moorey flinched back in fear, “You’re no puma. You don’t have that fight; you should’ve been born a wererabbit. Even a regular tomcat has more guts than you; the only cat quality you possess is pusillanimousness.”

Moorey didn’t respond. A harsh sob ripped from his throat as he weakly tugged at his restraints, before he began to cry again.

The Masked Man was suddenly alerted to a small tinkling he sound, before the slight scent of ammonia hit his nostrils. He looked down, taking a step back in surprise as he saw a small puddle of urine forming underneath the cot, near the puddle of blood. He could see a damp, dark stain growing on the front of Moorey’s boxers.

Moorey froze as the Masked Man glanced between him and the ground, before he glanced back up, his posture rigid as if offended.

“That’s disgusting,” the Masked Man snapped, “Could you get anymore pathetic? Even your leech bitch had the decency to hold it until I was gone. Have some goddamned respect for yourself, why don’t you?!”

“I-I-I’m sorry,” Moorey said.

The Masked Man shook his head. He was growing quite bored. The three of them had honestly been a waste of time. None of them showed that great instinct- the wild calling of their ancestors that led them to take on humans and those who sought to oppress them. Instead they had all quickly caved into his techniques. Even the vampire had quickly given up on her hissing and screams to just mewl when he so much as gave her a shallow cut and was begging him to kill her every time he saw her.

Perhaps, though, he just needed to work a little harder. Maybe he wasn’t being harsh enough- he had yet to show them just how worse it could get, so they weren’t quite there to giving him that instinct he sought in them.

Yes, maybe that was what it was. He needed to get more creative, push them a little harder, and maybe then would they actually entertain him and show him that they hadn’t let the humans stamp out their natural selves all the way.

Not tonight, though. He had other plans tonight, and right now, he was too irritated to get any further enjoyment out of the boy.

Sighing, the Masked Man strolled forward. He turned the knife so it was facing downward, before he promptly jabbed it into Moorey’s arm, right into the crook of his elbow, and pulled it downward, splitting the skin of his forearm opened.

Moorey screamed. He thrashed against the cot, a new round of tears pouring down the sides of his face as he fought against the pain. His sharp teeth were bloodstained in the dim light.

“STOP!” he shouted, “OH, GOD! STOP! STOP!”

“I’ve barely touched you,” the Masked Man said as he stood back up, watching blood pool in the wound and pour down the teenager’s arm. He made sure to stop right before he hit either of the arteries in the wrist; he didn’t want the boy to bleed out just yet.

What a shame. He was in good shape. Perhaps if he didn’t have to resort to keeping him tied down, and maybe let him free roam in a place like an open field or jungle, maybe Moorey would show more potential. Maybe he wouldn’t shed a single tear and would rebel just like the puma woman had with Father.

Shrugging, the Masked Man turned around and put the knife back down on the table.

“I would consider maybe shaping up soon,” he said bitterly as he made his way to the back, “When I come back, I hope to see that you’ve finally connected with what was once lost.

“Until then,” he said with a pause, “I’ll just have to cut it out of you.”

Not turning to see Moorey’s reaction or listen in on his screams any further, he walked into the shadows.

As he appeared outside, he looked to where he had recently put the werewolf teenagers he’d gotten a hold of. A smile appeared on his face.

He’d always heard wolves were stubborn. They were proud creatures, never ones to back down or give up.

Hopefully they’d show more promise than the pathetic cat.

Excitement building in his veins, the Masked Man went towards their rooms, planning on seeing just how much each and every one of them could take until they finally cracked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes: 
> 
> -I know that Dougey's real name is actually Dee O Gee (at least, that's what the MH wiki says) but since that's been his name for so long in fanon (and that's the name that comes up in the Netflix subtitles) Dougey will remain his name. 
> 
> -Ascena: My fan name for the purple-haired female werewolf with the braid who he pairs with in Fierce Crush.


	7. Chapter 6: Room of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The beginning scene of this chapter contains graphic depictions of torture. Do proceed with caution if you are easily squicked by such content.

_Clawd moaned, his eyes fluttering open as he struggled to wake up. His mind was foggy, making it difficult for him to get his thought in order. His body felt stiff and sluggish, like a piece of equipment that had just been turned on for the first time in years, and the mere action of adjusting his position felt like it had to take him forever. _

_As the haze slowly lifted from his brain, the brown wolf blinked and looked around. His eyes struggled to adjust to the dim, but harsh light above him. _

_He was surrounded by walls of steel, the light metal of which reflected the dim lighting. There was a table to his right against one wall that was littered with miscellaneous items, while a few boxes were stacked up in another corner. The setting reminded him of the inside of someone’s garage or something. _

_Clawd furrowed his brows. His back ached from where he had been sat in some sort of hard chair. He attempted to shift to relieve the discomfort, only to find he couldn’t. As he looked down to see why, it took a moment for the gravity of what he was seeing to sink in. _

_“What the…fuck….” He muttered. _

_He had been propped up in some old wooden chair- it was like the ones they used at school, only this one had had its table part removed. His clothes had been removed so he was left in just his boxers, leaving his bare ankles to be restrained against the front chair legs with a pair of handcuffs that were created from some sort of light grey metal. From what he could feel, his arms had been pulled behind him and handcuffed together as well. _

_Clawd’s stomach lurched. He looked around the strange room again, searching for a door as he tried pulling his hands apart to break the chain of the handcuffs. They wouldn’t budge. _

_“What the?” he whispered. He began to jerk desperately in the chair, trying to find some area of weakness that would allow him to free himself. The chair pounded against the concrete floor as it rocked back and forth on its legs from his actions. Clawd tried move his legs forward to break the cuffs at his ankles; despite his strength, however, the metal would not give, and he only succeeded in making it pinch his skin._

_“Don’t even bother,” a deep voice said out of sight, “Those cuffs are adamantium. You wouldn’t be able to break them even with the strength of ten full moons.” _

_Clawd froze. He kept his head bowed, before he slowly looked around the room. He sniffed the air for a scent. _

_Confusion and fright filled him as he failed to catch one. It was like there wasn’t even anyone in the room with him. _

_“W-W-Who said that?” he asked in a shaky voice. _

_The sound of footsteps made him slowly look to the right, where a dark shape steadily walked into his view and around him, before it stopped right in front of him. Clawd stared up at them, feeling a trickle of terror starting to pool in his stomach. _

_“W-Who are you?” he asked. _

_Standing before him, the person who seemed to have spoke just stared down at him, still as a statue. His ensemble, Clawd realized, resembled that of a plague doctor from the Middle Ages: His long black coat shrouded their tall, slightly-broad figure all the way down to his feet, where the toes of a pair of scuffed black boots poked out from underneath. His hands were held behind his back, allowing his cloak to ride up and give Clawd a peak at the brown leather belt at his waist, of which had several pouches attached to it. A leather shoulder cape covered his shoulder and collarbone area, and a balaclava rose up from under it and hid the man’s ears and head from view. _

_The most striking detail of the man’s attire, though, and no doubt the most unnerving, was the long white mask he wore- the long beak shape was bright ivory in the light, and the glass eyeholes were dark, keeping the brown wolf from seeing the eyes of whoever was on the other side. To complete the look, the man even wore a wide brimmed hat on the top of his head. _

_Heart thumping wildly in his chest, Clawd glowered at the man, trying not to let the fear he was feeling show on his face. He bared his teeth at the figure._

_“Who are you?” he asked again, this time bolder._

_“You’re trying to be brave,” the masked man replied, “You want me to think you’re angry, but your ears are flat against your head. That shows me you’re afraid. _

_“I’ve always admired that about you wolves,” he continued, wagging his finger, “You’re fighters. You do whatever it takes to show the enemy you’re a force to be reckoned with, even when you’re bound to be torn to pieces. You’re not like those pussy vamps, who are too arrogant and sweet talking for their own good.” _

_Clawd gawked at him. He swallowed dryly. _

_“W-W-What do you want from me?” he questioned. _

_The masked man tilted his head at him, staring. It unnerved him greatly. Clawd’s heart skipped a beat as the man suddenly strolled closer to him and leaned him, the beak of his mask nearly brushing his nose. _

_“To see just how much of that wild instinct you still carry,” he murmured, “Will you show me you have that fight as the savage beasts you are descended from? Or will you lay down and take it like an abused house dog?” _

_Clawd furrowed his brows at him, bewildered. What the hell was that supposed to mean? _

_The masked man turned away from him and headed over to the table; there was the clinking of utensils as he picked up several items from its top. _

_“This town is sad, the state it has allowed itself to fall into,” he added, his back to Clawd, “You are all monsters- the superior species. You rule over every other living thing in this world; you have powers and abilities that no mortal could even begin to comprehend, you are the fiercest of apex predators. _

_“And yet you all have allowed yourselves to be broken down and recreated in the humans’ image,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment, “You have willingly given up and restrained your natural instincts to be civilized and tamed like a bunch of stray dogs. It’s sad. Why insult yourselves like that? Why bow to **their **will? They are mere worms compared to you and I.” _

_The masked man turned back to him. _

_“Alas, I do not believe you are entirely hopeless,” he said, “You might still be as every bit the predator as your kind likes to proclaim you are; you just have never been in a situation where you have felt the need to let go completely. Maybe, if pushed the limit, you will show me you haven’t let yourself become the humans’ bootlicker completely.” _

_He turned back to Clawd, several items now in his hand and holstered on his belt. _

_Clawd felt his heart sink when he saw that they consisted of several knives, the largest one being a chef’s knife in his hand. He pressed his back against the back of the chair as the masked man approached him. _

_The masked man reached out and touched his arm. _

_“You have excellent definition,” he murmured, “I can tell you partake in many physical activities.” _

_Clawd jerked away from him and snarled, “Don’t FUCKING touch me!” _

_The masked man pulled his hand back, seemingly surprised by the outburst. However, he quickly recovered with a satisfied “hmph”. _

_“My, my, what big teeth,” he mused, “We’re off to a good start. Let’s see if you can keep up that same attitude during the test.” _

_“Test?” Clawd asked lowly, “What test?” _

_He tensed as the masked man held up the kitchen knife. _

_“This test,” the latter said before, without missing a beat, he promptly jabbed the edge of the knife across the werewolf’s arm and pulled back, slicing the skin across the entire length of his bicep. _

_Clawd yelped, a flurry of pain immediately erupting out from his arm as the sharp blade easily cleaved through his flesh. The wound stung like silver pressed against him as a torrent of warm blood cascaded down his arm, soaking his brown fur. He stared at the wound in shock, before looking up at the masked man in alarm. _

_The masked man held up the knife, showing the blood that now coated its edge. _

_“You seem surprised,” he said, waving the knife back and forth mockingly, “So do something about it. Growl at me, try to bite me, bark. Show me that proud wolf that supposedly lies inside you.” _

_He slashed it perpendicularly across Clawd’s chest, a neat red line opening up from the top of his right pectoral to his sternum. Clawd jumped again, yelling out in pain. _

_His screams echoed and reverberated off the walls of the small metal room as the masked man danced around him, cutting into him with line after line like he was performing some sort of ritualistic dance…_

Clawd awoke with a start, gasping as he snapped out of whatever dream he was having; it immediately faded from his mind, leaving him unable to remember what was going on within it to cause such a reaction from him. With the way his heart pounded madly, he faintly assumed it could’ve only been a nightmare.

He raised his head to glance around the room, struggling to catch his breath. His neck and back muscles hurt from the hunched over position he’d fallen asleep in. There was no sign of the masked man. Yet.

Whimpering, Clawd sat back in the chair. He took a few deep breaths, trying to steady his pulse, before he tensed up and tried to weakly pull at his restraints, to no avail.

“C’mon, dammit,” he growled desperately as he tugged harder. Tears of frustration pricked his eyes as he quickly wore himself out with his actions, and slumped back in the chair, his wrists and ankles rubbed raw.

His body ached all over from the dozens of gashes and cuts that now marred his body. All along his arms, back, and chest, they had bled heavily and drenched his fur in red, leaving it crusty as it dried. Some of them were in a position that even the slightest movement caused the skin to pull, making them sting as if they were still fresh.

His stomach growled and grumbled with hunger. He needed to use the bathroom. Clawd groaned as he felt his head start to hurt, though he didn’t know if it was from hunger or dehydration or just from being overwhelmed with what had happened in the last…however long he’d been here.

He had no idea how much time had passed since he’d first been brought to this room to now.

All he knew was that once he woke up, he’d been subjected to hell, as the masked man carved into him like he was a holiday ham. All the while, he spoke of “awakening the instinct” and “testing just how domesticated those mortals have made your kind.”

Clawd had no idea what he was talking about. All he knew was that the guy was an obvious psychopath.

The sound of metal scraping against concrete alerted him to a presence from behind. Clawd stiffened, despite the pain it brought from his wounds, and stared out of the corner of his eye, watching for movement.

A flash of black made him jerk his head to the left, where the masked man appeared.

“Good morning,” the masked man greeted, “Glad to see you’re still alert and responsive.”

Clawd swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry as a desert as he glared at the masked figure. The masked man just stared at him, watching his reaction; Clawd had quickly come to hate that mask. The way those dark eye holes disguised his abductor’s real gaze yet seemed to stare deep into his soul all the same. The way the long white beak glinted in the light like the large fang of a massive predator…

“I have something to show you,” the masked man said, turning and walking past him, before appearing a few seconds later, walking backward as he pulled something along with him.

To Clawd’s puzzlement, it was a baby’s crib, with one wall and the cushioning having been removed.

Upon closer inspection, however, he was horrified to see several lengths of barbed wire intertwined in the crib’s bars, with some left to hang loosely within the crib and gather up in coils like a metal rose bush. His stomach clenched when he realized it looked much like one of the traps from that normie horror movie series he’d watch with Deuce and Holt- _Saw_, he remembered, was the name.

“I did some thinking last night,” the masked man spoke up, “And I realized that if I really want to test your instincts, I need to be more…_considerate_, of the strengths and weaknesses of your species.

“What I did last night?” he explained, “Mere child’s play. You’re a werewolf, your kind dwells in the forest; you go up against the likes of moose and mountain lions regularly. What’s a few little cuts and scrapes compared to that?”

He shook his head, “No. We have to look deeper. Consider the things that are more likely to be a threat to your people, in your natural environment. What _really _makes you tick.”

He stood back up and turned to him. His hand slid into a pouch at his belt and pulled out something, which he held up for Clawd to see.

Clawd furrowed his brows at the object. A spoon?

The masked man silently approached him. He looked down at the werewolf. He held the spoon closer for him to see.

As it came closer to him, Clawd gagged as he felt a wave of nausea come over him; his stomach did a flop with a warning of potential puking occurring within the next minute. Clawd’s eyes widened as he realized the spoon was the cause, as the tarnished utensil was made of silver.

“Things,” the masked man added, “That make you do…_this.” _

He pressed the flat side of the spoon against Clawd’s left clavicle.

“AGH!” Clawd screamed.

The minute the spoon came into contact with his skin, an agonizing, burning sensation erupted from the area as every nerve was stimulated. It felt like he was being burned with a hot coal. He thrashed in the chair, trying to get away from the painful material. The masked man just kept it pressed against him, watching with vague interest at the reaction.

“_GODS, STOP! FUCKING STOP, PLEASE!” _Clawd screamed through gritted teeth. He let out a howl; it felt like the pain was radiating through his entire body.

After what felt like an eternity, the masked man finally pulled the spoon away. Clawd gasped for breath, his whole body shaking from the agony of the burn. Goosebumps had broken out under his pelt; on his collarbone, a nasty oval shaped burn stuck out against his brown skin.

“F-F-Fuck,” Clawd whimpered, his shoulders racking up and down with the threat of sobs.

“I wonder…” the masked man muttered.

He turned the spoon and pressed its edge against Clawd’s chest once more, this time dragging it across the top of his collarbone to the edge of the front of his shoulder.

He might as well have cut him with the kitchen knife again, as the silver spoon cleaved the werewolf’s skin like it was butter, splitting it right open and causing blood to gush from the exposed muscle underneath.

Clawd reared his head back and screamed, jerking wildly in his chair against the horrendous pain. The handcuffs around his wrists rattled from his movements and his outer wrists began to bleed from where the metal had dug into his skin, but all he could focus on was the excruciating pain that rippled through his entire being.

“Interesting,” the masked man replied.

“G-Gah! _Jesus, fuck!” _Clawd sputtered as the spoon was taken off once again. His hands had balled into such tight fists that his claws pierced the skin of his palms and drew blood.

The masked man said, “You think that’s bad? If this was the fifteen century, you would’ve been ordered to be submerged in a vat of silver while it was still boiling by some vampire aristocrat. They would’ve dunked your entire body, including your head, and then watched as it practically melted your skin from your bones.”

Clawd panted as he forced himself to look up at the cloaked man. Hatred burned deeply in his bright gold eyes, but now the Masked Man could see that the panic was more evident on his face. It was even more obvious in the way Clawd flinched as the Masked Man leaned forward, lowering his head so that he was almost eye level with the teen.

“So the question is: Can you withstand what they had to withstand?” he questioned lowly, “You’ve grown up rather spoiled- never having to face the perils of hunger by hunting on your own, or dealing with the actual risk of rival packs. So just how much can you take, until you disgrace their memory?”

Despite the horrible tingling that made every little movement feel like he was being electrified at the highest voltage, Clawd still managed a look of defiance at the masked man as he growled at him, before reeling his head back and spitting at him.

“Fuck you,” Clawd hissed.

The masked man pulled back so he was standing at his full height. He reached up and wiped off the wad of phlegm that had struck his mask.

“You think that offends me?” he asked, wringing his hand out, “This is just another part of your tough guy act. We’ll see what a ‘Big Monster’ you really are when you’re _really _screaming.”

He walked behind Clawd’s chair and grabbed the back of it, gesturing to the crib he’d moved in front of them.

“This is a changing world,” he explained, “While your people will always have a natural home in the forest, it’d be naïve to think that the humans haven’t managed to use it to their advantage as well. They’ve littered it with their traps and their bombs, hoping for whatever unlucky soul wanders onto their path so that they can use them for their meat, or their horns, their pelts.

“Have you seen these traps? They’re so cruel,” he lamented, “One of them, the snare- that’s probably the most painful of all, I would say. It’s just a little bit of wire that you get caught in- either you step in it or you run right into it head first, like a noose- and then it just tightens…little by little…until it crushes your organs or strangles you. Sometimes, if made of wire, they can cut deep into you. I’ve seen some of them; the poor animal was so frightened and so confused, it allowed the snare to tighten until it completely severed the artery in its leg.”

He ran a hand down Clawd’s arm, the latter recoiling from the touch.

“Hmm! Mmmm,” Clawd whined through pursed lips as the masked man pressed his thumb against the cut he’d made on his arm.

“Should you ever fall into one of these traps, you have two choices,” the masked man said, “You can either cry and thrash around until the humans come upon you and make you into a rug, or you can try and fight your way out. Find a way to free yourself and beat them at their own game.”

He knelt next to Clawd.

To the latter’s surprise, the masked man produced a key and undid the handcuffs around his ankles. Clawd immediately attempted to kick him, but stilled as he felt the edge of a knife press against the back of his calves.

“Don’t,” the masked man said, tilting his head to look up at the wolf, “Or I’ll sever both your hamstrings.”

“W-W-What are you doing?” Clawd asked.

The masked man stood up and walked so he was standing behind him.

“As I said,” he explained, “You have a choice. You have found yourself in my trap, and now you must make a choice. You can either squirm and cry out, or you can fight. You can be a pup or be a wolf. A beast…or a pitiful human. The choice is yours.”

He grabbed Clawd’s wrists and yanked them up; Clawd hissed at the strain it put on his shoulder muscles. The masked man did not uncuff these, but with them in this position, Clawd was no longer restrained to the chair.

The masked man forced him out of the chair, keeping his arms pulled behind him. He leaned into the werewolf’s ear.

“Make your choice,” he said.

With that, with a surprising amount of strength, he ran forward, shoving Clawd in front of him until he stopped and promptly threw him into the crib.

Clawd screamed as the world suddenly erupted in pain, as the razor wire immediately dug and tore at his skin. He thrashed about in the crib, trying to get away, only for the wire to catch in his skin and pull him back, causing further pain. He twisted about on his side, panicking as he felt himself get more tangled in the wire. His feet banged against the bars.

“AGH! GOD! HELP! HELP!” he shouted, “PLEASE! HELP! AH!”

The masked man watched him struggle, taking in his loud pleas and the way he squirmed. It was like watching a fish out of water, he thought, with the way the brown wolf flopped about in the crib.

Finally, after a few minutes- though it felt like it had gone on for hours for Clawd- the Masked Man approached the crib and bent down.

“Calm down, calm down,” he told Clawd.

Clawd didn’t hear him. Blinded by pain and fright, he continued to struggle to try and free himself from the razor wire, crying out loudly as he cut into his skin.

“Grk!” He froze as the Masked Man suddenly gripped him tightly by the throat, cutting off his airway. Clawd immediately stilled and gaped at him, his eyes the size of saucers.

“Calm down,” the Masked Man ordered, “Before you get yourself more tangled up.”

Swallowing against the pressure being applied to his jugular, Clawd forced himself to stop moving. He trembled as he watched the Masked Man reach into his belt and produce a pair of wire cutters. Bending down, he reached and cut the barbed wire in several random places, severing it from where it had been wound around the bars of the crib.

After he cut the last length of wire, he leaned against the bars of the crib and looked down at Clawd. Clawd whimpered under the harsh gaze of the white mask. A portion of the wire had caught onto the right corner of his lips, causing his mouth to sting as his lower lip quivered with trepidation.

“There it is,” the Masked Man muttered, “Now we’re seeing who you truly are.”

Pitiful whines escaped Clawd as he reached down and dragged him out of the crib, several lengths of the barbed wire still wound and embedded in his skin. Clawd sobbed as the Masked Man hauled him across the room, the pain too great for him to even resist as the Masked Man shoved him back into the chair and wrenched his arms behind him to tie the chain of his handcuffs to one leg and re-cuff his legs.

The Masked Man stepped back and observed the damage done to the teenage werewolf’s body. Some of the wire had managed to coil around Clawd’s arms and legs, while other lengths of it had become inserted underneath his skin and stuck out on his chest, shoulders, and back like it was growing out of him. The most horrific part, though, was how one end had completely cut into the right side of his face and sliced into his cheek and lip.

Silently, he grabbed one end of a coil that had stuck to Clawd’s back, near his shoulder blade.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he yanked on the wire, tearing it from Clawd’s skin.

“GAAAAAH!” Clawd screamed. The metal strips of the razor wire tore his skin apart as it was pulled from his body, leaving jagged gashes in their wake as they ripped through layers of skin and muscle. Hot blood poured down his back.

“Is that all you got?” the Masked Man spat, “Come on, you’re the big monster on campus, aren’t you? Fight back! Show me that bite!”

He grabbed another coil that was on his leg and ripped it off, the wire leaving a long slash in its wake that cleaved through blood vessels and cut through the muscles of Clawd’s thigh.

“AH! STOP! STOP, PLEASE!” Clawd begged, “OH, GOD! STOP, STOP!”

“Aren’t you a proud wolf?” the Masked man questioned with ridicule, “Isn’t your kind known for standing their ground?! Fight me, dammit, FIGHT ME!”

He grabbed onto one wire that was on his chest and ripped that away as well; Clawd wailed as it split his skin the full length of his chest, leaving a massive cut that went perpendicularly across his entire front. His abdomen was completely soaked in blood within seconds.

The Masked Man continued this for several minutes, grabbing each bit of coil that had remained stuck to Clawd and tearing it away so that it cut him deeply. Clawd, all the while, flailed about in the chair, screaming at the top of his lungs as his body became consumed in white hot pain. Tears and saliva ran down his face. Blood dripped from his hands and the chair and pooled beneath him.

“N-No, no, no, no, please-“ Clawd pleaded as the Masked Man grabbed onto the coil of wire that had stuck onto his face, only to cut himself off with a screech of pain as the bird-faced man ripped that away as well. The veins in his neck bulged as he screamed to such a high octave it hurt his own ears.

It was a horrible sensation as he felt a chunk of the skin on his cheek get torn away with the coil; the right side of both his lips split vertically, causing his mouth to fill with blood. For a horrifying second, Clawd thought he’d managed to rip open the entire portion of his cheek. The feel of wet flesh against his tongue as he prodded the right side of his mouth, however, filled him relief that such a thing did not happen.

The Masked man stepped back, the bloody coils gathered at his feet. Clawd gasped and hung his head, his lungs burning for air. His shoulders shook as he broke down and cried. Bloody saliva dripped from his lips. Deep, bloody gashes marred the surface of his skin, dark red in the dim lighting. Some were a sickening pink as they showed the muscle and nerves underneath.

He felt a rush of moisture between his legs that further dampened his blood-drenched boxers. Clawd felt shame burn deeply in his chest, realizing what had occurred.

The Masked Man noticed as well, as he shook his head and tutted in disappointment.

“Figures,” he said snidely, “You’re just like the others. You think you’re so tough, but when you’re truly facing danger in the face, you cower like a fleeing rabbit. Nothing but a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

Clawd felt his face grow hot in humiliation. He continued to sob, his body throbbing with pain.

“W-Why are you doing this?” he asked shakily.

“The others before you asked the exact same question,” the Masked Man responded, “I find it odd, to be honest. I highly doubt any answer I give you is going to satisfy you. And besides, is there ever truly a good reason as to why I’m doing this?

“I suppose I’ll entertain you anyway,” he said, walking around the chair. Clawd stiffened as his hand clamped down on his shoulder, “Like I said, I want to see the potential you have- or, sadly, the potential you _don’t _have. I want to see just how far you monsters have allowed yourselves to erase your nature to appease those lowly humans. I want to see if you are willing to release yourselves to the natural law, or if you are so far gone you will die trying to stick to this pathetic little concept of ‘humanity.’”

He walked in front of Clawd and grabbed his chin, tilting the latter’s face to look up at him. Clawd gawked back at him, his breathing shallow.

“But to be honest?” the Masked Man asked, “I do it, simply because I _like _it.”

Behind his mask, he smiled wide as he watched the color drain completely from Clawd’s face.

Turning away, he left the werewolf in his speechlessness as he walked over to the darkened corner of the room he’d appeared from and vanished.

As he jumped, he smirked as he heard Clawd begin to scream bloody murder.

* * *

“Okay, so what do we have?” Grindylow asked, leaning forward to get a better look at the computer screen.

Firth leaned to the left to give him a full view as he continued to type on the laptop.

“The mom first called the Wolf house when we were over at 8:56,” Firth said, “When O’Rogen and Matton got there, the blood found in the hallway was said to have been mostly dried. Based on statements given by the neighbor- who says that she had thought she’d heard shouting, but was too preoccupied in the shower to go investigate- the kidnapper seems to have entered the house somewhere around 7:45. During that time, he somehow managed to incapacitate both teens and take them off the premises.”

He reached over and grabbed a remote next to him, pointing it to the screen in from of them. Grindylow pulled away and stood back, watching the screen as he crossed his arms. Nearby, him and Firth’s colleagues and fellow investigators also stood around watching the screen.

Firth continued, “The Hairris family luckily has an in-home security system, so we collected the tapes from the night before and fast forwarded them to the window of time that we believe the kidnapping took place.”

He pressed “play” on the remote, allowing the video that was paused to continue to role.

Grindylow pursed his lips, watching intently as the video played. On the screen were four boxes, each displaying a different angle of the outside layout of the Hairris house. The time on the bottom of each screen read 7:45 pm. His eyes roamed each box slowly, watching every little detail intently.

_C’mon, _he thought, _Show yourself. Show us what ideas you had in store for these kids…_

At first, there was nothing out of the ordinary that occurred. The camera that faced the front lawn and driveway displayed a box of light thrown against the back lawn from the kitchen window; Grindylow and them could see two shadows occasionally appear against the light, presumably Dougey and his ghoulfriend Ascena rummaging about. The front lawn was still, save for the headlights of a car that would drive by or a squirrel or bird passing through.

“Detective?”

Grindylow turned. Firth paused the video as the rest of them looked to see the vampire forensics specialist enter the room with an unfamiliar monster trailing behind her.

Vitae turned and gestured to the man, who was some sort of hybrid monster with what seemed to be werecat and bird heritage.

“Detective, this is Dr. Leodore Moreau,” she explained, “He’s the one that I told you could help us identify just what species is our kidnapper.”

Dr. Moreau nodded and held out his hand. Grindylow shook his hand.

“Thank you for coming to meet us, Doctor,” he said, “I’m sorry that we’ve had to meet in such grim circumstances, but with the unusual factors involving our missing teens, we figured that the best way for tracking our perp would be to first figure how he’s exactly going about it.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Detective,” Dr. Moreau said, “When it comes to missing kids, anything you think can help, I’ll provide.”

Grindylow nodded, turning back to the screen. “We’re analyzing the security footage from one of the victim’s houses to see if we can get a sense of how the perpetrator managed to get onto the premises and take both of them.”

Dr. Moreau stood next to him as Firth resumed the footage. The first five minutes of footage felt agonizingly slow as the seconds ticked away with no sign of any foul play or unusual activity occurring around the house. Not one known for his patience, Grindylow felt frustration quickly beginning to brew in him at the lack of progress.

This case was quickly turning out to be one that the department knew they had to have their full defenses up. He dealt with high stakes cases before, but to have this many people go missing in such a small amount of time was unheard of. Usually, the kidnapping cases they dealt with involved just one person and one victim- often either a jaded parent who’d lost custody of their child, a delusional woman who decided to replace the child she’d either lost or couldn’t have with some stranger’s kid, or someone who was expecting ransom as part of a negotiation.

Whenever they did have the case of one person being responsible for multiple cases, the incidents were stretched out, with weeks, months, or sometimes even years passing before they made their next move; it was often one way that offenders would try to keep police off their tail- with so much time passing between the last victim and the next, usually it would take some time for anyone to pick up on the feeling that the multiple missing persons were more than coincidence. Going too fast made it easier to pick up on mistakes, so they’d have to resign themselves to stewing in their impatience before another opportunity presented itself.

Another thing Grindylow had seen was that perpetrators also had certain patterns when it came to their victims. They had certain preferences for who was to be their target of “affection”, such as the victim’s age, their gender, or even their line of work. One such case involved a guy who specifically went after college students who were going to ivy league schools on scholarships, since he knew he could get money out of their families. Another perp was someone who specifically went after brunette vampire women because he was deluded and had some fantasy about all of them possibly being his “dream ghoul” from his imagination.

This case, though, fit none of that criteria.

Within a matter of weeks, they had nine teenagers reported missing. All of them of different species, at different times, doing different things. The first three were all out at the park, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for a potential kidnapping- perps also loved to try and frequent places that they knew they could get people alone at night- but Toralei Stripe had been walking to school in broad daylight. Two of the werewolf teens who’d been reported missing, Clawd Wolf and Romulus Canidae, were in the former’s car driving, when something caused them to crash. Dougey and Ascena were at his house when they were stolen. Silvi Timberwolf was out on the side of her house, taking out the trash for her mother.

There was no rhyme or reason for their disappearances. A few seemed reasonable, but the rest were just simply illogical in the means of how they occurred.

And all the while, the perp had left no evidence of their presence at the scene of the crime. No tire tracks, no footprints from shoes or a piece of trash. Not even so much as a stray hair. There were no witness statements of an unfamiliar vehicle patrolling through the neighborhood or reports of any suspicious persons frequenting the area. The Hairris house had no sign of forced entry nor did Clawd Wolf’s car.

There wasn’t anything suggesting that the perpetrator had even been at the scene of the crime in the first place. It was as if all nine teens had been sucked into a portal to another dimension right where they were standing.

That left either one of two possibilities: Either none of them were connected, and New Salem was just experiencing a sudden influx of kidnappers who wanted something from all these teens, or it was all the same guy, who clearly had experience with covering his tracks and couldn’t wait to get his next catch in the barrel. Either that or he was just really impulsive.

Either way, they were running out of time. Another thing Grindylow had learned while working on the force- the more time that passed between disappearances, and the more people that went missing, the more likely that they were going to start seeing bodies showing up sometime in the future…

He was so lost in his thoughts, he almost missed something that had changed in the security footage, until Hungert, the forensic psychologist, pointed at the lower left camera.

_“Look,” _he moaned in Zombish, “_There, near the shed in the backyard. Look towards the corner of the fence.” _

Firth paused the tape and rewound it. They all looked towards the camera that kept watch on the backyard, keeping their eyes to the area of the fence by the shed like Hungert had said.

At first, there was nothing. The night vision of the camera bathed everything in shades of white and light green. Insects hovered by the view like little specs of dust in the grainy little image.

All of a sudden, right near the edge of the shadow casted by the shed, by the garden box that was put up against the fence, a figure suddenly emerged.

They were wearing all black, allowing their body to blend in with the shadows, save for the distinct white bird-shape mask that they wore on their face. Grindylow’s eyes widened as he watched the figure stand up from the shadows and begin to move towards the house; the person glided across the ground like they were floating, their feet hidden by the long cloak they wore.

“Pause that,” Grindylow commanded, “Right there, pause right there and rewind it by a few seconds.”

Firth grabbed the remote and followed his directions, bringing the footage back to right before the figure had appeared.

“Play it again, slowed down,” Grindylow said, “There, you notice anything?”

They watched the area again, frame by frame. Grindylow kept his eyes on the spot where the mask had been visible.

Grainy black was all that was visible at first.

Then, in a matter of two seconds, the white of the mask suddenly materialized right in the shadows.

“He…he just appears,” Vitae commented, “There’s no sign that he was waiting there or that he climbed over the fence. It’s like he just...teleported to the spot.”

Grindylow nodded, “Exactly.”

They watched as the figure silently made his way to the house. Surprisingly, he didn’t make his way to the back door; instead, he made a right and paused just before a window on the side of the house. From what Grindylow could remember from their initial search, this gave a view of the den from the yard.

The figure seemed to stare into the window for a few seconds, seemingly watching the two werewolves inside. Then, he looked up, taking a step back to apparently look at a window from the second level, before he glanced down at the shadow that he was standing in, casted from the picnic table and chairs that rested on the concrete section of the backyard only a few feet away.

Grindylow and all of them jumped as, with no warning, the masked figure vanished from the yard.

“What the hell?” one of the investigators exclaimed, “Where the hell did he go?”

Firth quickly grabbed the remote and rewound the video.

Again, the figure disappeared.

No running, or walking away, or floating.

Just a quick puff of what looked like smoke, and then he was gone.

“Firth, can you zoom in on that?” Grindylow asked, pointing to a thin wisp left behind that was quickly fading from view.

Firth furrowed his brows and bent over his laptop, his robotic fingers typing frantically as he paused the video and edited it so that the area where the figure had been standing was amplified. Slowing the speed down to a near fraction of what it was going at, they all watched again as the figure puffed away from view. Again, the figure was suddenly gone, leaving behind only a few strange black wisps in his wake. They flitted about and disintegrated soon after, like smoke rising from a fire.

Grindylow narrowed his eyes. He’d seen an ability like that before; it reminded him of the typhoportation that smoke elementals and even some fire elementals were capable of. Via particle manipulation, they were able to control and change the phases of their bodies so that they became little more than literal dust in the wind.

Taking a glance at the corner, he could see that the time read it was ten minutes before eight o’clock. Five minutes after the time they had predicted the kidnapping would take place.

“It looks like he’s shadow-traveling,” Dr. Moreau commented from behind him, “He must’ve seen that it was dark and used the shadows from the table and chairs to transport himself into the room.”

“That would explain how he got into the house without any sign of actually breaking in,” Vitae commented.

“_And why the scents for the other students just disappear from their last locations,” _Hunger pointed out.

Grindylow called over his shoulder, “Do we have any footage from the interior of the house, to let us see what room he ended up in?”

Firth shook his head, “The family only has cameras for the outside. Says they’re too paranoid about hackers getting a hold of their passcode and trying to scope out all their belongings.”

“Dammit,” Grindylow growled. Unless one of the windows at the angles showed the confrontation, the events of just went on in the house- from the time Dougey and Ascena encountered the perp to the time he took both of them from the property- was still all up in the air.

Sighing, Grindylow put his hands on his hips. “Okay, then let’s see if the outside can give us any clues.”

Firth nodded and replayed the video, adjusting the speed so that the footage played out faster. Grindylow leaned forward and pressed his hands against the table, eyes searching for any hint as to what went on in the Hairris house once the masked man was out of sight.

The clock said five minutes had passed. Then ten. Fifteen. Twenty. The exterior atmosphere of the house was still and silent, with not even a leaf out of place.

Thirty minutes of footage were said to have passed before the camera in the backyard caught sight of some movement once again.

The masked figure came from somewhere under the counter, his back turned to it as he retreated to the shadow of the shed that he had appeared from.

This time, however, much to his horror and disgust, Grindylow could see he was dragging both werewolves along with him. He had a limp Ascena thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, one hand pressed against her lower back to keep her balanced; the teen she-wolf’s arms dangled down over her head like a bunch of wind chimes. To his right, Dougey, clearly unconscious, lay against his hip as the masked figure pulled him along with one hand clenched in his jacket.

The perpetrator didn’t seem to even tire as he effortlessly carried them into the area beside the shed. With his back turned towards the camera, his dark-clad figure became entirely obscured by the pitch-black shadows of the shed. Ascena and Dougey were just barely visible, due to the slight glow that his white t-shirt and her white stockings gave off in the camera’s night vision.

The masked figure just stood there in the dark for a moment.

Suddenly, they were gone.

For a moment, the entire division just stood there, gaping at the empty space of the grass. Grindylow stood back, rapping his knuckles on the table, before he turned to Dr. Moreau.

“So,” he asked, “What do you think, doc? These little magic tricks give any indication as to what our perp is?”

Dr. Moreau narrowed his eyes at the screen, putting a hand to his chin in thought.

“Well, it certainly narrows down the list,” he sighed, “Shadow-traveling is an ability exclusive to dark-natured and shadow creatures. Boogeymen are the most infamous kind to wield it. However, creatures like hellhounds, black dogs, and cwn annwns also are known to use it, as are demigods born to the god Erebus. Even some sub-species of vampire are able to do it.

“The problem is, it also depends on _how _they shadow-travel,” he explained, “Monsters such as strigois can use it merely as transportation and go about their day, but others like Choctaw shilombishes have to strictly remain in the shadows. Any kind of light would be harmful to them.”

He scratched his head, “It _also _depends on if they have any other shadow-related abilities. If they’re a darkling, they’d be able to manipulate the shadows to become weapons or familiars. If they were a shilombish, they wouldn’t be able to step out anywhere that light was present. That doesn’t even get into the meat of all the sub-species of other monsters capable of this.”

He tapped his thin in thought, before he turned to Firth.

“Were they able to get some semblance of a scent, at all?” he asked, “Any aroma of brimstone? Dust? Pine needles?”

Firth wiped his hands on his pants and stood up, sighing, “Actually, no. And that’s one reason why we wanted to bring you in.

“According to the smell experts, there was no foreign scent in the house. They couldn’t find any that didn’t belong to the family,” he explained.

Dr. Moreau’s eyes widened in surprise. “No scent? Are you sure?”

“_None,” _Hungert said, “_Even the parents commented on it. They said the only smell that alerted them was the blood found in the upstairs hallway.” _

“I…I see,” Dr. Moreau said.

Vitae suggested, “Do you think it could be a ghost?”

“Maybe,” Dr. Moreau said, “But that doesn’t explain the shadow jumping. They may be able to phase through walls, but they can’t magically teleport from place to place; they tend to just fly around.”

“Could they potentially be a hybrid monster?” Firth asked, “Maybe certain traits get cancelled out from the mixed blood?”

“Possibly, but there’s still too many holes to say for sure,” Moreau said, “Do you have the reports of the other missing students? Any notes that the investigators made in the other crime scenes could probably give me more of an idea of what the kidnapper is relying on in terms of getaway.”

Firth nodded, “Of course, Doctor. Please, right this way.”

He turned and waved his hand over his shoulder, gesturing for the lion-like doctor to follow him. Vitae followed after them, commenting how she’d give them the forensics reports she’d written up a few days prior. When they were gone, Hungert nodded at Grindylow.

“_I have to prepare for the Hayfield hearing,” _he moaned, “_Let me know if you need anything else from me.” _

Grindylow nodded, “I will.”

After the zombie shuffled away, Grindylow collapsed in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face.

So now they knew how the kidnapper got in the house, but not what he did to able to take down two teens.

They had an _idea _of what he was and his abilities, but the evidence was still too light to be concrete.

Maybe, but not for sure.

In other words, they were stuck at the same place they were since this whole thing first started.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Grindylow sighed, grabbing the skin between his eyes. He sat there for a moment, trying to ease the oncoming migraine he could feel. He took a deep breath, before letting his hand drop as he stared at the screen.

Frowning, he grabbed the remote and pressed rewind, bringing the tape all the way back to when the masked figure first appeared near the shed.

Right as the kidnapper stepped out of the shadows, Grindylow paused the tape. He set the remote down, his gaze focused on the figure’s strange costume- the all black attire, the wide brimmed hat on his head, and particularly, the long white bird mask that protected his identity. Grindylow had a memory of seeing similar masks in plays based on the Venetian Renaissance.

He looked ridiculous- it was such a strange choice of clothing for a home invasion. He looked more like a character from a comic book.

What was the reason for it? What game was this guy trying to play?

“Just what you after, you son of a bitch?” Grindylow asked under his breath, glaring at the mask, “What are you after?...”

* * *

The television screen’s view wasn’t too good, but it still reflected enough light that it gave her a decent view of the room behind her. Abbey kept her eyes on it, noting the outlines of all the furniture that became little more than darkened silhouettes in the TV screen.

“_-And I know that everyone’s been pretty paranoid about all of us going out lately with…with everything that’s happened,” _Heath said over the phone, “_But I figured I could ask my mom if it was okay if we just hang out here. Maybe watch a movie or something?” _

“Sounds good,” Abbey answered.

“_I could come pick you up, too, if that works. Or Bloodgood could drop you off, whichever one she’s more comfortable with,” _Heath added.

“Will ask her.”

“_…Are you okay, Abbey?” _Heath asked, “_You sound like you have something on your mind. _

“Am fine, Heath,” Abbey answered, staring at the television, “Sorry, am just a little bit distracted. Have been little overwhelmed by homework lately, and I’m a bit tired.”

Heath answered, “_I feel that. Okay, I won’t keep you. See you tomorrow, Abbey. I love you.” _

Abbey smiled, “I love you, too. Goodbye.”

After Heath’s goodbye and subsequent hang-up, however, it quickly disappeared off her face. Abbey frowned and took her phone away from her ear, gently setting it down on top of her planner. Her jaw set firmly as she looked out of her peripheral.

She knew they were here.

She had caught sight of them in her computer screen a few minutes ago. They’d done a good job of hiding- however they had managed to get in, they’d done without even an inkling of noise, leaving not a hair out of place- but she’d seen them. They’d been leaning ever so slightly out of her closet, so slight that she could’ve very well missed it, had she not looked up at the right time to see the long white beak staring her down.

They were waiting for her. Watching and waiting.

Taking a deep breath, Abbey touched her ice crystal. Its cool touch provided a small sense of reassurance to her.

_Act natural, _she told herself, _Don’t give them any clue you know. _

She glanced over at Shiver’s bed. The baby woolly mammoth was fast sleep, her snores like little trumpets as her stout feet kicked in the air.

Silently, Abbey stood up from her desk chair, feigning tiredness as she pretended to yawn and put her notebooks back in her backpack, before grabbing her phone and turning away from her desk.

They’d retreated back into the closet, she noted, though they left the door open a crack. Clever.

Plugging her phone in and placing it on her nightstand, Abbey pulled back the covers.

She closed her eyes, summoning a rush of cold her to hands. Her fingertips became coated in a light covering of frost. Her claws looked like tiny icicles.

Opening them back up, she reached under her lamp and grabbed the switch.

_Never let your enemy get you in a vulnerable moment, _her father’s words echoed in her mind, _You are warrior. You are as strong as mountain blizzard. If you must fight, you fight until your body goes cold as highest point of Himalayas._

Abbey took another deep breath and flicked off the lamp.

The second the room became engulfed in darkness, she spun on her heel and grabbed the doorknob of the closet door, flinging it open before she lunged forward, propelling her fist out in front of her.

Her knuckles connected with hard muscle, the person giving out a surprised “Oof!”

She swung her opposite hand in from the side and managed to land a hard punch against the person’s face; Abbey heard something crack beneath it.

The rubber sole of a heavy boot shot out and kicked her hard in the stomach. Abbey doubled over as the force sent her flying out of the closet. She hit the ground and somersaulted as she rolled on the floor, finally stopping as her back smacked against the wall against the window frame.

Shiver let out a honk of alarm as she awoke from the noise, rolling over on her back to sit up. Her hot pink eyes looked around in alarm.

Abbey regained her composure, opening her eyes just in time to see a large dark shape shoot out from the closet, before a hand grasped her tightly by the throat and pulled her up to slam her against the wall. A fist connected with her left cheek, causing her head to snap to the side.

She grabbed the person’s wrists with both hands and sent a blast of ice up their forearm; they yelled out from the painful chill of the cold and released her, leaving her to drop back onto her rear end. Abbey leaned back and shot another blast of ice at them, thrusting them back so they collided with her armoire. The old wood rocked back and forth on its legs, sending knick-knacks that decorated the top of it to the floor, where they shattered upon impact.

Shiver trumpeted in fear, scrambling backwards off her bed as she caught sight of the mysterious cloaked figure that had attacked her owner.

Stumbling to her feet, Abbey panted as she glared at the intruder.

The tall figure was dressed in all black, save for his bone white bird mask, the right side of which, she noticed, was now cracked and chipped, no doubt from her punch.

The masked man raised his head, clenching the sides of the armoire tightly as he glowered at the yeti hatefully. A deep, deafening snarl escaped his throat, before he shot towards her with a loud scream that reminded Abbey vaguely of the cackling of a hyena.

He flew towards her like a bat out of hell. Abbey leaped out of the way and crashed into her dresser. She gritted her teeth as the corner jabbed her in the arm. Turning, she looked back.

To her shock, the masked man was nowhere to be found. She glanced around the room, trying to find.

“Come out and face me!” she ordered, “You think you real scary man, you come out and fight!”

Downstairs, she could hear the harsh pounding of footsteps on the stairs.

“_Abbey?” _Headmistress Bloodgood called out, “_Abbey, are you okay?! What happened?!” _

There was a sudden flash of green from behind her. Abbey twisted around, only to feel a heavy body slam into her as the masked figure phased right through her dresser and tackled her, his arms around her waist as he sent the two of them to the floor.

Shiver ran back and forth, unsure of what to do besides honk.

Abbey yelled out as the back of her head slammed against the carpet. She glanced up, shocked to see the faint blue glow that surrounded the masked man. Looking down, she could see that his forearms, as well as the lower half of his body, was entirely see-through.

“A ghost?” she choked out. He hadn’t been like that in the closet; he’d been entirely solid.

Before she could further ponder it, the masked man let go of her biceps to grasp her by the sides of her head, before he pulled her head up and proceeded to slam the back of it into carpet. Abbey yelled out in pain.

“_ABBEY!” _Miss Bloodgood screamed from the hallway.

The masked man did it again. White spots danced in front of Abbey’s eyes. She tried to kick at him, but they went right through his translucent legs.

As quick as a jaguar, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe. Still dazed from her head injury, Abbey could only scream as he jabbed the needle into the side of her neck and pressed down on the plunger. Immediately, she could feel whatever was in it take effect, as her limbs immediately turned to jelly and her vision started to blur.

The masked man reared his head back and watched her, seemingly amused by her ordeal.

“As an extra precaution…” he muttered.

Abbey caught a brief glimpse of something light blue hanging from his neck, before he cocked his elbow back and punched her in the face.

He watched as the yeti jerked once, before she immediately went limp as she blacked out. Sighing in relief, the masked man looked to the right, where a frightened baby mammoth stared at him with fear from where it cowered in the corner.

Knowing the pathetic creature wouldn’t bother him, he quickly made haste as he gathered Abbey up in his arms and stood up. Her long white hair trickled over his arm.

Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a glass bottle full of sand. It was pitch black in color. Balancing it on his hip, the masked man unscrewed the top and pointed the neck of the bottle towards himself. 

Bloodgood stumbled as she raced to Abbey’s door. She’d been in the middle of managing student records when she suddenly heard a commotion from upstairs, a series of loud thumps and screams from Abbey causing her to shoot out of her seat.

“ABBEY!” she screamed out, reaching the door and grabbing for the knob, twisting it violently to the left.

She flung the door open and switched on the light.

“Abbey!” Bloodgood called again, looking around the room for the source of the noise.

The bedroom was in disarray, with several items knocked over and broken glass littering the carpeted floor. Shiver had pressed herself against the wall between the bookshelf and the vanity, trembling violently as she regarded Bloodgood with terrified eyes.

Abbey and the masked man, however, were nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice the number of chapters seems to change continuously, I apologize for that. I'm rearranging some order of events in my outline, so the story may be a few chapters longer than initially intended depending on what events I keep to the same chapter or end up changing around. 
> 
> Happy Holidays to all my readers. Thank you for your continued support.


	8. Chapter 7: The Leash of Fear

“Oh, Frankie, hold on there,” Victor called from the kitchen, “I’m going to drive you girls today.”

Frankie paused by the doorway, her finger still hooked into the back of her shoe from where she’d been pulling it on. She looked towards where Victor was standing at the counter with his coffee.

She glanced at the clock, “Don’t you have to be going to work in a few minutes?”

“Well, I thought it’d be more convenient to drop you two off on the way,” Victor replied, “Unless you were getting a ride from one of your friends?”

Frankie shook her head.

Victor nodded, “Good. So get your stuff together. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Daddy!” Alivia replied from the table, still happily munching on her pancakes.

Frankie side-eyed her father as he took the last few sips of his coffee, before he checked his watch and made his way to the stairs. Victor smiled at her from the base.

“Dad, is everything okay?” Frankie asked.

“What? Oh, yeah,” Victor said, “Just wanted to spend some time with you two this morning. Your mom and I have been so busy with these increased hours lately, I feel like I’ve hardly seen you or your sister at all these last few weeks.”

Frankie stared at him, her brow furrowed. He had a big, jolly smile on his green features, but she noticed he wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Worry immediately began to churn in her gut. She knew what that meant. He was hiding something from her.

Keeping a wary eye on him, her and Alivia got their backpacks and followed him out the door as Victor grabbed his coat and satchel. In the car, Victor kept his gaze on the road, while he drove with a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. Frankie noticed his arms were stiff as he turned the wheel and adjusted the stick, like he was going through a bad case of rigor mortis.

“Dad, are you all right?” she finally asked.

Victor blinked like he was in some kind of trance.

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah,” he said, giving her a strained smile.

“Can we listen to the radio?” Alivia asked from the backseat, “I want to hear Catty Noir’s new song!”

“Sure,” Victor said, letting one big hand leave the wheel to turn up the volume.

Instead of music playing, however, the first thing they all heard was a woman’s voice talking, no background tunes on at all. Frankie looked at the station. It was the local news bulletin.

“_-plea to the general public for any information on their whereabouts,” _the DJ narrated, “_The two of them were last seen leaving The Drunk Kraken restaurant in Keizer. Manny is a minotaur and stands at six foot four, a hundred and eighty-two pounds, and has tan cowhide skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes-“ _

Frankie sat up in her seat.

“What did she just say?” she questioned, staring at the radio.

Victor stiffened in his seat. Alivia craned her neck.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Frankie held up a hand to shush her, before she turned the volume up louder.

_“-dark blue jeans, and black Dark Hauntkins boots,” _the woman on the radio continued to say,”_ Iris is a cyclops of a hundred and twenty-three pounds; she is five-foot-three and has a slim build, a light green complexion. She has darker green hair and a green eye. She was said to have been wearing a black eyeball-print sweater, white leggings, and black sneakers with eyeball print. _

_“It was said that the two were going on a date and where heading back to hang out at Manny’s house, when all other contact suddenly ceased. Both their families say this is out of character behavior for them and ask that if anyone has anything that they think could be of help to them and the police, to please call them,” _she ended.

Frankie’s eyes widened in horror. _No, not them too. _

She shot a sharp glance at her father as she heard Victor swear in German under his breath. He still wouldn’t look at her, but now she could see his face was troubled, his eyes stormy.

“Manny and Iris are…a-are missing?” she stated, her voice little more than a whisper.

Victor sighed, “Frankie…”

The way he said it rubbed her the wrong way. It suddenly clicked on her of why he wasn’t making eye contact. Her mismatched eyes lit up with anger.

“You knew?” she questioned, “And you weren’t going to tell me?!”

“Your mother and I only found out this morning,” Victor replied sharply, finally sparing her a look, “We wanted to make sure it wasn’t a false alarm, since there was a big accident on the highway the night before and they weren’t sure who was involved.” 

He leaned back in his seat. “I also didn’t want to tell you right now because I didn’t want you to spend the day worrying. And…and we got scared.”

_That’s why he wanted to drive us to school today, _Frankie realized with a small feeling of guilt. She could certainly understand his anxiety. Her own uneasiness was quickly building as she still reeled from the news.

Two more missing kids from her school. Only a few days after Clawd and the others were reported.

How was this even possible? How did _five _people all go missing in one night, all at different locations? How did someone manage to work so fast that they managed to nab multiple numbers of people within less than a week of each other? She had watched a few crime shows every now and then with Laura, and not even the ones about he most cold blooded killers had their crimes occur within such a small frame of time.

“Frankie?”

She blinked. Frankie looked around, finding that they were stopped near the curb of the school’s drop-off zone. Victor was regarding her with a look of concern; Alivia tilted her head at her, puzzlement in her features. In her panic, she had spaced out.

Victor reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, noticing the sudden pale green hue her face had taken on.

“Maybe you should take a day off,” Victor said softly, “You can come to the hospital with me. It’ll be a special kind of ‘doctor’s orders.’”

Frankie smiled, appreciative of the suggestion, but shook her head. “I need to go to class, Dad.”

“Are you sure? I know these are…_trying _times. If you’re not up for it, I understand,” Victor insisted.

“If it’s already gotten around school, I need to be there for my friends,” Frankie said, “We need each other right now, more than ever.”

Victor gave her a sad smile. He reached up and gently cupped her cheek.

“Always putting others first,” he said proudly, “You’re so sweet.”

He leaned forward and kissed her on her forehead. Frankie smiled and gave him one of her own on the cheek, before gathering her bag up and opening the door.

“You’re staying after school, right?” Victor asked as she slid out the car, “Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, Jackson’s going to give me a ride after we’re done with science club,” Frankie said, bending down after she stepped out to look at him, “I’ll let you know when I’m home.”

“Okay. Well, have a good day, sweetie,” Victor said in departing.

“Bye, Frankie!” Alivia waved happily.

Frankie smiled at her energy and waved back, before finally turning and stepping onto the sidewalk, joining the wave of other students as they entered Monster High.

The small wave of bliss didn’t last long, however, as she stepped into the commons area and immediately could feel the friction amongst the student body. Everywhere, students gossiped and hissed amongst one another. Frankie’s face fall. She noticed how their stares darted back and forth, how a few of the ghouls were crying and the guys looked either shaken or hostile, like they were ready to fight someone at the drop of the hat.

Obviously, it hadn’t taken long for the news to spread.

Frankie walked with her head low, her books hugged tightly to her chest as she made her way to her locker. The agitation she was feeling in the car quickly came back to her, making her heart race and her look around the hallways like someone was going to pop out at her.

She’d become so distracted in her paranoia that she didn’t notice she was right in front of the person coming from the opposite direction, until the two of them collided into each other with a unanimous “Oof!”.

Each ghoul’s belongings spilled from her arms and fell onto the floor at their feet. Frankie stumbled back, looking up in surprise to see she had run into Catrine. The white werecat shook her head, slightly disoriented from the impact, before she glanced up at Frankie with an apologetic look.

“Oh! _Pardon_, Frankie! I should’ve been paying more attention!” Catrine exclaimed as she bent down to gather her things.

Frankie knelt next to her, helping her as Catrine handed her one of her notebook. “No, it’s my fault. I was distracted and wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I understand,” Catrine said, looking over her shoulder at the groups of students whispering, “It seems everyone has been feeling out of sorts. It is a scary situation we have been handed.”

They picked up the rest of their belongings and began to walk together. As they passed by the art room, Frankie perked up at the sight of two men in police uniforms exiting Headmistress Bloodgood’s office, nodding as they stood to the side to let a werewolf girl head out.

“What are the cops doing here?” she asked, looking at Catrine.

Catrine’s blue eyes were grim as she looked towards the policemen. “They’ve been taking students into the headmistress’s office one at a time, asking them if they know or saw anything that could possibly linked to the kids who went missing.”

The sight of the uniformed men and their badges made Frankie grip her books tighter. She eyed them warily as they passed by, her and the rest of the students in the halls watching them as they approached one guy and said a few words to him. The ginger haired mouse cryptid looked like he was being led to execution as he followed them, wide-eyed and stiff, to the office. Everyone looked in his direction with stares of sympathy.

They were all cut off from their group watch as the bell suddenly rang. Frankie glanced up at the ceiling with a grimace; she wasn’t looking forward to class today.

“Well, I guess I better get going,” she said to Catrine, giving her a small wave as she turned to start towards her first class. Catrine nodded and waved back at her. Hurriedly, she made her way to Mr. Rotter’s class.

As she passed by a row of lockers, she suddenly slowed down as she caught sight of Deuce and Heath standing at the end of them. What made her pause was Heath, who she noted looked _extremely_ disheveled as she ranted to Deuce.

“-how the hell this could happen, man,” Heath said frantically as he grabbed handfuls of his hair. He stared down at the ground like he feared it, “Where did she go? Where the hell could she be?!”

“Heath, listen to me,” Deuce tried to soothe, “You have to calm down. You’re not doing any favors by getting yourself worked up about this.”

Heath swallowed hard, his eyes gleaming like he was on the verge of tears. “I need to find her, man, I need to find her! I need to do _something_ besides just standing here like a goddamn sitting duck! She needs me!”

He looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was all mussed up from running his hands through it. His lower lip quivered. Frankie couldn’t help but watch, curious at what had gotten him so wound up.

Deuce put a hand on his shoulder, his brows furrowed in concern. “Look, bro, just take deep breaths.”

Frankie thought to approach them and ask what was wrong, but before she could open her mouth, the warning bell went off. Regretfully, she turned and continued on her way, though she shot them a worried look over her shoulder. She made a note to ask Jackson later if he knew what was up- it was disturbing to see someone like Heath, usually so peppy and cheerful, look so distressed.

This time, Mr. Rotter hadn’t said anything about Manny and Iris, but Frankie took notice of the way his scowl was more pinched than usual, his movements more stiffed and his tone more clipped as he directed the class about what pages to turn to in their textbooks.

The class was oddly quiet. Nobody made a sound, save for the few who raised their hands to answer questions or who Mr. Rotter called on. The occasional students who texted under their desks or passed notes to their friends weren’t even trying anything today. The tension was thick in the air. It made it quite uncomfortable to be sitting there.

Suddenly, as a mutant grasshopper struggled to pronounce a sample paragraph of Elvish, a voice suddenly came over the intercom.

“_Frankie Stein, to the headmistress’s office, please,” _the secretary announced, “_Frankie Stein, please come to the headmistress’s office.” _

Frankie paused. She glanced up from where she’d been trying to focus on writing notes, surprised at hearing her name called. The rest of the class had turned in their seats to stare at her; she shrank back, uncomfortable at all their eyes glaring at her. It felt like they could’ve melted her in her seat.

“Go on, Miss Stein,” Mr. Rotter ordered, “I will write you a hall pass if need be.”

Hesitant, Frankie slowly stood up from her seat and quietly made her way to the front door. She tried not to let her gaze linger on any one student as they all continued to gawk at her, following her every move with their gazes.

The hallways were utterly silent as she walked to the main office. The sound of the click of her boots felt amplified. Frankie rubbed her arms nervously.

Why were they calling her down the office? Was it so the cops could talk to her? But what could she tell them? The only person of the missing group that she’d talked to lately as Iris, and their last conversation had been over a week ago for planning a ghoul’s night out to the movies. Other than that, it was just silence. What could she tell them that they thought would be of any help?

Unless…they thought she was a suspect, somehow. But why? Did they find something that they thought could tie her to the crime? But what could that be? Shouldn’t she have a lawyer present? What if she said the wrong thing and they decided they wanted to take her down to the station?

_Calm down, _the rational part of her mind suddenly said, _You’re letting yourself get worked up over nothing. _

She stopped. She was right outside the headmistress’s office. Frankie felt something in her chest tighten. How had she not noticed she was already here? Her mood wasn’t helped by the sound of multiple voices on the other side of the door.

“It’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong,” she tried to reassured herself, “You don’t know what they want. Just calm down.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She let it out through her mouth, before she raised a shaking hand and knocked on the door.

The voices stopped. She could hear Nightmare let out a small whiny, before the door was pulled open to reveal Headmistress Bloodgood.

“Aw, Frankie, hello,” Bloodgood greeted, holding the door open, “Please, come in.”

Frankie silently stepped into the office. At the right of Headmistress’s desk, two uniformed officers stood beside Nightmare with neutral expressions, their hands on their belts. In front of her desk sat two other men, those these guys were dressed in more business casual clothes than uniform. They turned in their seats and gave her small smiles. Frankie just stared, unsure of how to react.

Bloodgood put a hand on her shoulder. “Frankie, these are Detectives Grindylow and Firth. They’ve been interviewing students this morning about the…unfortunate circumstances that have befallen our school. I hope you don’t mind if they do the same with you.”

She gestured to a third empty seat that sat to the right of Detective Grindylow. Frankie glanced between the detectives.

“Um…sure,” she finally answered, slowly sinking down into the chair.

Grindylow turned his chair so he faced her and nodded at her, a gentle smile coming onto his lined green features.

“Hello, Frankie,” he said, “How are you?”

“…I’m good,” Frankie replied after a minute, glancing between them and Bloodgood, “Am I…in trouble?”

“Oh, no,” Grindylow said, “Don’t worry, this isn’t an interrogation- though we can certainly call your parents or even an attorney if that makes you feel any better?”

At the shake of her head, he continued, “We’ve just been talking to some of your classmates to see if any of them could give us extra information for our case…I’m sure you know such case I’m talking about?”

Frankie nodded. She suddenly felt a lump in her throat as she thought of how Clawd was among them- Laura and Clawdeen were total wrecks last time she saw them. Then she thought of Iris and Manny and her throat tightened even more.

“Y-Yeah,” she said, “I-I know a few of them.”

Grindylow gave his own nod, “I know. And let me just say, I’m so sorry you are having to go through this right now, Frankie. I promise my team and I are going to do everything in our power to find your friends and make sure they are returned home safely.

“That’s why we called you here today,” he continued, “Miss Bloodgood has told us that you were close to several of our victims. We were wondering if you had any information about them that you thought could help us, maybe something that was off about them the last time you saw each other?”

Frankie shook her head, “I-I’m afraid I can’t tell you much, Detective. The closest people I know of that…group are Clawd and Iris, and Clawd is only because I’m friends with his sister and ghoulfriend. And even with Iris, we only talk occasionally.”

“I see,” Grindylow said, writing on the little pad on his lap, “And what of Miss Bominable? Were you close to her as well?”

“I…what?” Frankie asked.

Something inside her went deathly cold.

Detective Firth elaborated, “Abbey Bominable? Do you know her?”

“A...Abbey’s missing?” Her voice was so small she was surprised if any of them were even able to hear her.

She glanced at Bloodgood. Her stomach clenched as she saw that the older woman had her head hung low; her eyes were closed as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Nightmare let out a small bray that sounded almost like a dog’s whine, her soft red eyes looking at her master with sadness.

“You didn’t know? Oh, gods, Frankie, I’m so sorry! I thought you had already been informed,” Grindylow apologized.

Frankie shook her head, “N-No. I-I had no idea. I only heard o-of Manny and Iris, but Abbey…”

She trailed off, unable to say anymore as she suddenly felt like she was attempting to swallow a rock. Her eyes flooded with tears; her bolts sparked as they did when she felt a sudden rush of emotion. She became numb to everything else around her as her thoughts zeroed in on the detective’s sentiment.

Abbey was missing. One of her best friends, whom she’d gone through thick and thin together, was missing. Frankie had just talked to her _last night. _They’d been facetiming as Frankie made dinner with her mom- Abbey had rolled her eyes as she consistently shot down Frankie’s suggestion that they do a double date with Jackson and Heath.

“_Is more like triple date since Jackson and Holt share body,” _Abbey had pointed out, “_Both are nice guys, but also more annoying than Heath on his worst days- especially Holt. Would not be able to put up with constant morphing at musical beats.” _

_“Oh, please?” _Frankie had insisted, “_It’s been such a long time since the five of us hung out, it will be fun!” _

Abbey had hung up not long after that, saying that she had to go feed Nightmare and start her history report. Frankie had let her go with a goodbye and told her to at least think about her idea.

That must’ve been why Heath looked so torn up, she thought with a heavy heart. He had probably already heard.

Grindylow grimaced as he watched the young construct; the poor girl looked like she was on the verge of short circuiting. He cursed internally- he should’ve considered that she hadn’t possibly heard anything. Kids learned things from different sources; it was a rookie mistake for him and Firth to start off with complete disregard for those possibilities. Beside him, Firth blushed until he was as red as a tomato.

“Yes, Frankie,” he finally spoke up, “I’m afraid so. Last night we had gotten a call from Miss Bloodgood here that she had heard a violent commotion from upstairs in Abbey’s room. When she went to investigate, she found that Abbey had was gone.”

He looked up at the headmistress after speaking. Bloodgood still had her head down, her hand rubbing her forehead like she’d gotten a headache. Frankie looked at her with shock, her face filling with despair at the uncharacteristic weariness of her principal.

Grindylow turned back to Frankie, his gaze stern.

“Did you talk to Abbey at all yesterday? Did anything she say to you that made you think something was wrong? Maybe her tone or her choice of words seemed out of character?” he suggested.

Frankie looked like a store mannequin as she shook her head with just the slightest turn of her head.

“Everything was perfectly fine with her,” she said thickly, “We were just talking about hanging out in the next few days. S-She talked like she always does. The l-last thing she said was that she needed to go out into the corral…”

Right as she felt like she was about to break down crying, she suddenly had a memory of something Abbey had told her recently. Frankie furrowed her brows, thinking about it.

“Actually…” she spoke up, “There was something…a few days ago. She…she said she felt like she was being watched.”

She raised her head to look at the detectives. Firth wrote on his pad while Grindylow leaned in closer to her.

“Really? Did she elaborate on this feeling?” he asked.

Frankie tried to remember. She glanced at Bloodgood, who had sat up at the statement and now had leaned forward to stare at her intently.

Bouncing her leg, Frankie looked down at her nails, trying to recall the exact words Abbey had used.

“She…she said that sometimes she swore someone was watching her from the windows,” she said, “She never could find any evidence anyone was there, but sometimes, she-she thought she’d seen someone once or twice.”

“_Sometimes, I think I see someone just as they leave my line of vision,” _she remembered Abbey telling her, the yeti’s nose wrinkling, “_Think I see slight flutter of cape or figure just as they hide. But when I go to investigate, I find nothing. Cannot tell if was trick of the light or if someone playing cruel prank.” _

How ironic, Frankie thought bitterly. It turned out her suspicions were more factual than either of them thought.

She looked back up at Grindylow. “Does…does that help at all?”

“Yes. Very much so. Thank you, Frankie,” Grindylow said, writing down her comments on his notepad, “Can you remember anything else Abbey had said?”

“I-I think she said something about seeing a flash of white out in the backyard once, but I can’t remember the exact words,” Frankie struggled to remember, “B-But that’s all.”

She clenched her fists on her lap. Her lip quivered as the sudden want to cry came back in a rush. “I-I wish I could say more, b-but that was all she had told me.”

Bloodgood gave her a sad look, her lips in a flat white line as she turned her gaze down at her desk, sighing heavily.

Sensing the anguish in the room, Grindylow peeped between both women, before he turned back to Frankie.

“I understand, Frankie,” he said softly, “Thank you, you’ve been a wonderful help. Please, if you can think of anything else that seemed out of the ordinary with Abbey or your other friends, don’t hesitate to call us at this number, okay?”

He wrote down his phone number on a blank part of his pad and tore it off, sliding it over on the desk to Frankie. Frankie nodded blankly and grabbed it, absentmindedly shoving it in the pocket of her jeans.

“Well, if there’s nothing more, than I think we’re done here,” Grindylow said, turning to Bloodgood, “Unless you have something you want to say, Miss Bloodgood?”

Bloodgood shook her head, “No, I’m fine. Frankie, you can go back to class now.”

Frankie nodded again. She stood up, her movements robotic as she walked to the front door. She didn’t even spare Bloodgood or the detectives a second glance as she opened the door and walked out.

All three of them stared at the door after she left. Firth turned in his seat to face Bloodgood.

“She a friend?” he asked.

“Probably one of the first Abbey made when she came her,” Bloodgood said, sitting back in her seat, “Frankie’s probably one of her best friends.”

She sighed, “What a mess this has become.”

Outside her office, Frankie stood against the wall, her breathing shallow. She stared at the opposite wall, fear building in her veins like a toxin as she found herself spiraling into dark thoughts.

Abbey was missing. Iris was missing.

Three more people in one night. More of her friends, gone.

She felt like she was going to throw up. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She felt like her bolts were about to pop.

She put a hand to her mouth, smothering the sob that tried to escape her. She stood there for a few minutes, letting the tears pour down her cheeks and her shoulders bounce as she silently cried, overwhelmed by the revelations of this morning.

Abbey was missing. Iris was missing. Manny was missing.

Three of her friends, all gone in one night.

What was going _on _in this town?

This wasn’t right. Things like this didn’t happen to them. They were monsters, they could fight back better than humans could, couldn’t they? Who could’ve been behind all this that they could easily take multiple people in one night at different locations without leaving any hint that they were there?

Maybe she should’ve taken her father up on his offer. She didn’t know how she’d be able to focus today with Abbey on her mind.

Forcing herself to calm down, Frankie stood up straight and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She needed to get back to class. Dwelling on this new news wasn’t going to do her any favors.

Telling herself that, she finally pushed herself off the wall and started back to Mr. Rotter’s. Taking a quick detour in the bathroom, she looked in the mirror to fix any of her makeup that and run and blow her nose.

“_Heath Burns, to the headmistress’s office, please,” _the secretary called out over the intercom again.

Frankie glanced up at the speaker. She felt a pang of sadness at the sound of the fire elemental’s name.

Poor Heath. It was no wonder he looked so torn up this morning. She knew that, for all his messing around, that it was obvious he’d fallen completely head over heels for Abbey. Aside from her, he was probably the other person Abbey talked to the most.

And for that matter, what about Headmistress Bloodgood? She was Abbey’s guardian while she was living in Salem. This wasn’t just another student gone, now it was particularly personal for her.

A chill went through Frankie when she thought of the detective’s words. Didn’t he say that Abbey was taken from her house? From her own _room? _Gods, and he also said that Bloodgood had heard the whole thing. How was _she _taking all of this? First all her students start to go missing, and now one of them included someone who was like a daughter to her.

It was times like this that Frankie felt a bitter, scary sense of reality hit her; that she was reminded that she was still so very young and unaware of the world around her. Still so new to just how ugly and horrible it could be.

She knew that she’d had to experience some painful times in her life, but never anything of this degree.

Realizing she was freaking herself out, she closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths.

“Think happy thoughts,” Frankie muttered, “Think positively. Your friends you right now. You can’t afford to lose control when you all will have to rely on each other’s strengths.”

Slowly breathing in and out, she opened her eyes back up.

And jumped back with a scream as her eyes landed upon a figure of black moving behind her.

Frankie through herself back against the sink, her hand pressed to her chest as she stared at what she’d seen in the mirror’s reflection.

It was a black winter coat, slung over the hook of one of the stall doors. The stall door was open; above it, the heating system whirred gently, causing the door to swing back and forth with the slightest movement. It seemed some girl had hung the coat up to use the bathroom and possibly forgotten it.

Frankie stared at the coat, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She hadn’t initially noticed the door was open, too caught up in her thoughts. With her view from the mirror, it gave the slightest impression that someone was standing there.

As it slowly sunk in exactly what she was staring at, Frankie closed her eyes and blew out a breath.

_Jesus_. There was nobody there. She’d nearly blown her own bolts over nothing.

“I’m being silly,” she tried telling herself, “Your mind’s playing tricks on you, nothing more.”

_Get a grip. Don’t start freaking out over every little weird angle or shadow that you see. _

Yet, even as she said this, her mind nagged her with the memory of what she’d told the detectives of what Abbey had said before she disappeared.

_Abbey had thought she was seeing things, too. And now look what’s happened. _

It wasn’t a reassuring thought at all.

Rubbing her arms, Frankie looked around the bathroom uncertainly. She bent down, glancing under the stalls to make sure there wasn’t anyone there, on the chance that someone was messing with her. When she saw nothing, she sighed.

“I need to get out of here,” she muttered, eyeing the coat warily as she made her way to the door.

As she walked back to Mr. Rotter’s class, however, she rubbed her arms, still spooked over what had happened in the bathroom.

She tried not to dwell on it, but she couldn’t help but ponder a dark thought.

She prayed that this little freak out was it, and that she, too, wouldn’t start seeing a flash of white in her back yard that disappeared right as she glanced its way.

* * *

Clair sat silent, nodding her head at the information that was just given to her. Across from her at her dining table, Jackson sat back in his seat, sighing heavily as he ran a hand through his hair and bounced his leg up and down anxiously.

“And they think they were only a few hours apart from each other?” Clair asked after a few minutes of quiet.

Jackson shrugged, “The headmistress says she first heard the brawl occur about ten forty-five. Manny and his girlfriend were last seen at the convenience store near the mall at eight-thirty or so. So who knows when what happened?”

Clair nodded in understanding, “How’s your cousin taking it?”

“So far, not good,” Jackson said wearily, “I swear, he looked like he was about to pass out. He didn’t eat at all at lunch, either. My aunt pretty much had to force him to take a nap when he got home.”

He took off his glasses and closed his eyes, rubbing them with one hand. Clair watched him, silent.

It certainly was a dark turn, how this last hour had turned out. Initially, Jackson was supposed to come over for just a quick visit to pick up the stereo Holt had lent her last weekend, but the second the bespectacled boy showed up, Clair got one look at his face and made him come in to spill what was eating him.

Clair certainly couldn’t blame him for looking so rugged. Three more classmates gone in one night, to add to the growing pile of missing classmates that had occurred in a mere month? It was enough to drive anyone crazy.

“It’s not just because of Abbey, either,” Jackson added, “Manny’s one of his best friends. So to have both of them missing, it’s taken a lot out of him.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Clair replied. She looked down at her nails, thinking of the second name.

_Manny, Manny…_oh, yeah. She remembered him. He was at the Halloween party last year; the minotaur dude, with the septum ring.

Jackson finally looked back up at her, giving a shrug. “Anyway, sorry to be such a Debbie Downer. I know you weren’t exactly expecting a sob story when I popped in.”

“Oh, shut it,” Clair said, “You know I’m always there to lend an ear to my friends.”

Jackson smiled half-heartedly, before he grabbed the speaker in front of him and stood up.

“Well, I better get going,” he said, “My parents have been a bit antsy lately about me staying out. I’m already cutting it close with science club.”

He started for the door. Clair got up and followed him, showing him out. She gripped the doorframe and the screen knob, watching as Jackson walked down the porch.

“Let Frankie she can always text me if she wants to talk,” she called out after him, “No matter where or when, if she needs a shoulder, I’ll be there.”

Jackson turned and gave her a genuine smile this time, along with a gentle nod.

As he was digging into his pants for his keys, a convertible drove by with its top down, allowing the bass-heavy rap music blasting from its radio. Jackson shot up straight, his eye twitching as he started to feel a familiar funk come over him.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, looking at his hand at it turned blue, “Right now?”

Clair raised an eyebrow, watching as the familiar flash of green light almost blinded her as he transformed. Sure enough, a second later Holt now stood in his place. He looked around in confusion, before he broke out into a big grin as his eyes landed on Clair.

“Well, well, Clair-Bear, my gorgeous goth!” Holt exclaimed, walking back up the porch, “To what do I owe the honor of being able to be here on your porch in your lovely presence right now?”

He moved in close to her, shooting her one of his big white-toothed smiles. Clair rolled her eyes, though she smirked as she playfully shoved him away.

“Leaving, actually,” she answered, “And don’t call me ‘Clair Bear.’”

“Aw, so cold!” Holt joked, “Is that any way for you to treat your friend who you invited over?”

“Jackson just wanted to come to pick up your speakers, it wasn’t an invitation of any sorts,” Clair remarked, “Besides, he said your parents wanted you guys home right away.”

Holt rolled his eyes, lamenting, “Of course. He gets to have all the fun with the _ladies_ and I only get to be around to see them kick us out. The Hyde man gets no love!”

Clair shook her head, “Goodbye, Holt.”

Giving her another one of his signature smiles, Holt shot finger guns at her and began to walk backwards, before he turned on his heel and started back to his car.

He stopped, though, as a familiar black Chevy Impala came from around the corner and pulled up to the curb next to Clair’s house, right behind his and Jackson’s dad’s Ford Focus. From the windshield, Lilith could be seen seated in the driver’s seat, engaged in what looked to be a very heated phone conversation.

Clair walked out of her doorway to go greet her. She walked passed Holt, who had strangely remained frozen in place as he stared out the car, and approached Lilith’s side as the blonde opened her door.

“I don’t care what ‘benefits’ it has, I’m staying here!” she argued, “I only have a year left, and I’m not going to just uproot everything to be spending my senior year with total strangers just because he thinks I may get ‘a more hands-on’ approach at some snobby school in the middle of nowhere!”

She sat there for a moment, one leg out on the asphalt and a hand on her keys as she listened to the other end. She looked up; Clair raised an eyebrow of question. Lilith mouthed the words _My dad_.

“I’m sure,” she huffed, “…I will, but don’t hold your breath if I don’t magically change my mind…I know…I love you, too. Bye.”

Lilith took the phone from ear and hit _End, _giving the screen a slight glare before she shoved it in her pocket.

“Family trouble?” Clair asked.

“Understatement,” Lilith said, grabbing her purse and backpack and stepping out the car, “My dad’s been a total ass lately about this whole school thing. He keeps telling me to look into it because I might ‘really’ like it in the end.”

She made finger quotes and rolled her eyes. “And of course, him and my mom keep trying to act like they were giving it some thought, when really it’s just because they’re hanging onto every word my uncle’s feeding them. It’s such bullshit.”

Clair gave her a sympathetic pat on her shoulder. Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Lilith straightened up and smiled.

“Oh, well, I don’t want to think about them now,” she said, holding up her backpack, “Right now, I have a chemistry test I need to pass.”

She looked towards the direction of the house.

“Hi, Holt,” she greeted, giving a small wave, “What are you doing here?”

“Just picking up my speakers,” Holt replied curtly.

The tone of his voice made Clair look back in his direction. Holt stood on the last step of the porch, completely stiff; he now gripped his speakers in both hands, his fingertips clenched tightly against their metal grills.

There was something about his expression that made Clair frown. The usual mirth that made his eyes sparkle was gone; now, Holt’s gaze was unusually hard as he regarded Lilith with something of a glare. His jaw was set tightly.

_What the hell is up with you? _Clair thought to herself. Lilith didn’t seem to notice, though, as she started up the walkway.

“Oh, okay,” she replied, “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything. Clair and I were just going to do some studying, but I can wait-“

“It’s fine,” Holt cut her off, “I was leaving anyway.”

He stepped onto the walkway and started for the both of them, shoving his hand in his pocket for his keys. Clair and Lilith watched him, the two of them sharing a look. It wasn’t like the blue-skinned monster to be so short with people.

Lilith gave her a look that said _What’s up with him? _

Clair shrugged. _I don’t know, either, _she expressed with her eyes.

“Who were you talking to?” Holt suddenly asked, looking up from the car lock at Lilith.

Lilith shrugged, “Just my dad. We were kind of arguing; it’s over something stupid, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh? How are they, by the way? The family?” Holt pressed.

Clair narrowed her eyes at him. It sounded like an innocuous question, but the way Holt said it bothered her. It was with the tone of someone who wasn’t really interested and was just waiting to say their piece. Like someone who’d found out they’d been lied to and was just goading the other party into a conversation so they could spring their knowledge of the lie on that person to catch them red-handed.

Lilith stared at him, surprised at the question. Holt stared back, his eyes unreadable.

“They’re…they’re good,” she answered, “My dad just got a new book deal, and my mom got a promotion recently, so we’ve been having it pretty good lately.”

Holt nodded, “And your uncle?”

Both girls gawked at him. Lilith’s eyes widened, her lips parting like she wanted to ask her own question. Holt raised his brows at her, waiting for her answer.

“Why the hell do _you _want to know?” Clair asked.

Holt shrugged, “Just curious, is all. I mean, she _did _say she could keep us in the loop about him, in case anything was up. I just want to know if anything is indeed up.”

He said it like the most obvious thing in the world. Clair felt herself bristle, now slightly annoyed with his behavior. He was dodging around what was actually on his mind.

Lilith frowned, “And I have. He’s…okay, I guess. His job’s asked him to do this whole encyclopedia thing on the contact period between monsters and humans of North America, so he’s been stuck in his office at work and home most of the time typing up documents. He says it’s been pretty mundane so far.”

“Oh?” Holt inquired, “So does that mean he’s not traveling anymore?”

“Well, not for the moment, no,” Lilith said.

“And how long has he been doing this? The _not _traveling?” Holt pressed.

Lilith shrugged, “I don’t know, two weeks, maybe? Why do you want to know?”

The slight exasperation she felt at his pestering suddenly evaporated at the venomous glare Holt shot at her. His eyes were smoldering like lit coals, while he wrinkled his nose and pressed his lips together in a thin line of disapproval. Overall, he viewed her with an expression like her mere presence was a great offense to him.

Next to her, Clair offered up her own scowl. She now had half a mind to tell him off, if just so he’d stop the passive aggressive crap and just say what was on his mind.

“No reason,” he said, “Tell them I said hi. Have a good day, you two.”

Before either of them could say anything, he opened his door and got into his car, slamming it behind him as he started the engine up. A second later, he pulled off the curb and drove away.

Lilith and Clair stared at the back of the car, dumbfounded at the scene that had just occurred. Lilith turned to her goth friend, her brows knitted together in perplexity.

“Who spit in his coffee?” she asked, “Did you see the way he looked at me? He acted like I just said his music sucked!”

Clair shook her head, equally puzzled. “I have no idea.”

She had never seen Holt act like that before. Jackson she’d seen get stern plenty of times, but Holt- being his “negative twin”- was always so superfluous and colorful, the most negative emotion she’d ever seen of him was mild annoyance when they were hanging out one day and a group of boys who passed by made a bunch of degrading comments about Frankie.

But this time, he seemed so serious. His eyes were suspicious, hostile. A touch hateful, even.

Her gaze lingering on where his car had been, she put a hand on Lilith’s arm.

“C’mon, we better start studying,” she said, urging her back to the house.

Lilith stared at the spot for a few more seconds, before she silently walked alongside her. As they entered the house, Clair made a mental note to talk to Jackson and Frankie about Holt’s uncharacteristic action.

Maybe he was just a jaded from what had been going on at their school, or it was something else entirely. Or maybe a bit of both. But his questions made no sense. Why was he so adamant about hearing about Lilith’s family? Out of all their monster friends, she had gotten the impression he had cared the least about Van Hellscream.

The way he had looked at Lilith bothered her greatly. His glower reminded her of whenever she made eye contact with the girls at their school who’d sneer and gossip about her way of dress and who’s boyfriends would shoot spit wads at her.

Like someone who was seizing up their number one enemy.

Or an animal who’d just spotted a threat and decided they needed to be eliminated immediately. 


	9. Chapter 8: A Turn for The Worse

“Okay, steady now,” Mr. Amerou directed, “Just there; one, two…easy, easy…”

Him and Frankie grunted as they shuffled their feet sideways, trying to set down the dresser against the wall. Frankie grimaced, feeling her arm stitches strain against the weight of the antique; even without any clothes or yet stored in it, the dresser still felt a good fifty or so pounds. She started to worry her arms would rip off.

“And- a little to the right- aaaand, there!” Mr. Amerou said as they slowly placed the dresser on the ground. He stood back, rubbing his hands as he observed its position. He shot Frankie a satisfied look.

“Finally!” he exclaimed, giving a sigh of relief, “We’ve officially gotten all the big pieces where they need to be! No more thrown out backs and strained muscles anymore!”

Frankie gave him a small smile, though she couldn’t find it in herself to share in his enthusiasm.

She had thought that coming over here today would help distract her from the recent events going on in town, but whenever the initial conversation between them wore off and she was alone to her thoughts, all she could think about what was going on at school.

It was a disaster. The fear and paranoia followed her everywhere. She could see it in everyone’s faces as she passed by them- at school, at the coffee shop, her own parents whenever they had dinner. The hysteria of over the missing students (now lovingly coined by the newspapers as “Monster High’s Unlucky Thirteen”) had permeated the atmosphere of New Salem like a thick miasma, seeping into every aspect of everyday life.

Even something as simple as going to the grocery store felt like one was heading straight into the evil unknown. Everyone went about their business with their heads down and their postures stiff, as if bracing themselves for a bomb to go off at any second. Conversation was kept to bare minimum, and people practically ran through the store as they hurried to get what they need and get out; absolutely no time for small talk.

It was like they were prisoners in their own community.

“Frankie?”

The simulacrum blinked, realizing she was spacing out. She looked up; the gleeful look had left Mr. Amerou’s face, and now he looked at her with worry.

“Are you all right, dear?” he asked, “You’ve been distracted all day.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” Frankie answered, looking down at the floor. She didn’t mean to ignore him, but she just didn’t have the energy to try and put on a smile and pretend like everything was all right.

“You’re thinking about those missing kids, aren’t you?” Mr. Amerou asked.

Frankie grimaced, “Was it that obvious?”

“Only that you’re wearing the same expression I’ve seen everyone in town wear ever since this whole disaster started,” Mr. Amerou replied, “You know any of them?”

Frankie nodded solemnly. “I-I knew most of them, actually.”

“I’m so sorry, Frankie,” he replied, “That sounds terrible. You must be going through a lot right now.”

He didn’t receive a reply right away. Frankie looked down at her t-shirt, rubbing her thumb against one of the worn holes near the hem.

“I just…don’t know what to do,” she said miserably, “I-I-I’ve never felt this helpless before.”

A billion emotions raced through her all at once. Everything she felt and wanted to say swirled around and threatened to eat her up inside with no way to relieve it. It was the elephant in every room- even with everyone looking over their shoulders and the tension thick in the air, people still went about their day like nothing was wrong. The teachers went about teaching the lessons like a quarter of the class wasn’t missing; her parents talked about everything and anything that _wasn’t _related to the police or missing kids. It was like she was just supposed to go with the flow and pretend nothing was wrong, even as her mom and dad went out of their way to drive her and Alivia to and from school even though they lived within walking distance and insisted she get a ride wherever she went.

She couldn’t do it, though. She couldn’t be all smiles and sunshine when people were vanishing without a trace. Not when one of them was her best friend or her friend’s brother.

Not when it was clear _anyone _from Monster High could be next.

What if it was another person she was closest to? What if it was Clawdeen or Draculaura she heard the latest news bulletin be on next? What if it was Jackson, or Cleo?

What if it turns out they kidnapper had moved on to other schools, and the next radio report she heard was one of Alivia’s friends?

What if it was _her_?

It felt like she was being swallowed whole. Like there was some big bubble of pressure building up inside of her that desperately needed to be released, but all she could do was push it down. She needed someone to talk to, but who? She couldn’t turn to her parents- she knew they meant well, but them shutting her down and telling her not to worry wasn’t going to help things. Laura and ‘Deen were busy with trying to deal with their baggage with Clawd, and Jackson and Holt, despite their sayings she could always come to either of them, also had to be there for Heath. He was their cousin, it was only fair that he’d come first.

Everything was just falling apart at the seams right in front of her eyes and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

A harsh sob escaped her, and Frankie realized that she had started crying. Mr. Amerou took a step towards her, his brows furrowed in concern. He had one of his large hands held out in front of him, as if unsure to touch her or not.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie said as she wiped at her eyes, “I just…they’re out there and I don’t know how to help a-a-and I don’t know what to do…”

“Hey, hey, now,” Mr. Amerou said gently as he grasped her forearms, “Don’t talk like that. Here, let’s have a seat.”

Putting a hand on her back, he gently led her into the living room to the sofa, where he had her take a seat. Frankie buried her face in her hands, unable to stop herself as she sobbed. Her striped hair curtained her face as it brushed against her thighs.

“There, just let it all out,” Mr. Amerou directed, rubbing her back gently as she wept. They sat there for a good five minutes or so, Frankie just weeping while he tried to soothe her.

Finally, when she felt like she could finally form a sentence without turning into a sobbing wreck, Frankie sat up and wiped her nose. She gave Mr. Amerou a watery smile.

She sniffed, “I’m sorry. I came over here to help you move furniture, and now I’m here having a meltdown in the middle of your middle room.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mr. Amerou said as he grabbed a box of tissues from the coffee table, “You clearly were holding a lot in and needed to get it off your chest. We all need a good cry sometimes.”

He handed her the tissues; Frankie took a few gratefully and wiped at her eyes. A slightly amusing thought came to her that she must look atrocious with how her makeup had surely smeared.

“Now, don’t you feel better?” Mr. Amerou asked.

Giving a small smile, Frankie nodded.

“It’s just…” she began, “I feel…_useless_, just sitting here. My parents tell me there’s nothing more than we can do but be on the look out until the police come up with some new evidence, and I know that, but I still feel like there’s more I _could _be doing. Even though I don’t know what that is…”

Mr. Amerou nodded in understanding. “You’re going through a pretty traumatic experience right now, something someone your age definitely shouldn’t be having to deal with. I doubt anyone could blame you for being a little overwhelmed.”

He stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. Frankie looked up at him.

“How about I give you your pay and take you home now?” he suggested, “You look like you could use a break.”

Frankie looked back at the hallway uncertainly. “A-Are you sure?” she asked, “Didn’t you want me to help you move the dining table?”

“It can wait another day,” Mr. Amerou waved his hand, “You wait here, and I’ll go get my wallet and keys.

“Here, maybe some cartoons will cheer you up,” he attempted to joke, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and turning to point it at the television.”

Right as he turned it on, Frankie felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out to glance at the screen.

_You need to come home immediately- Mom_

Frankie furrowed her brows. She raised her other hand to type out what was the matter, but right as she was about to touch the keypad with her thumbs, the television answered for her.

“_Breaking news: A tragic update in the case of thirteen missing students from New Salem,” _an anchorman announced, “_One that police say has officially made the search for the rest a race against the clock.” _

Frankie paused, glancing up at the TV in curiosity. Mr. Amerou paused as well, one foot in the entryway of the kitchen as he leaned out to be able to see the screen.

The blunt clatter of her phone hitting the floor wasn’t even enough to elicit a reaction from Frankie. She stared at the TV screen, speechless. The color had drained from her face; her eyes had grown to the size of dollar coins.

“_After almost four weeks of searching, authorities have discovered the bodies of two of the missing monsters in a ditch a little way off Highway forty-two. The gruesome scene was said to have been uncovered by a couple out walking their dogs just this morning…” _

* * *

It was days like this that made Grindylow really second guess his decision to go into force.

He rubbed his eyes, feeling a sudden wave of fatigue come over him. It was of the kind that wasn’t necessarily from being tired.

Taking his hand away from his face, he put them on his hips, standing up straighter as he regarded the pinboard in front of him. He sighed, trying to focus on the task at hand. In front of him, Firth stood over one of the desks, writing something out on a pad of paper.

The pinboard’s surface was decorated with a variety of sticky notes, photographs, string, and various other items such as newspaper clippings and cell phone records.

The photographs displayed the faces of all thirteen students at Monster High who’d gone missing in the last month and a half.

Two of them had been stuck with sticky notes that read _DECEASED_ in bright red letters.

Grindylow’s gaze lingered on those three; his jaw tightened- it felt almost like he was being mocked, looking at their sparkling eyes and bright smiles, like they were subconsciously teasing him of how happy all these kids looked, oblivious to the fate that would befall them.

Walking up to the clipboard, Grindylow raised his hand touched the sticky note at the top of the board.

“So let’s start at the beginning,” he said, more so to himself than to Firth, “October seventeenth, 10:43 pm, Hellvira Karnstein and Moorissey Surrey go out for a jog together in Devilman Park. Sometime shortly afterward, they run into Harper Quill and the three make plans to go home together. Based on the texts read from their phones, they’re kidnapped around two-fifteen to three fifty-three in the morning of October eighteenth.”

“Yep,” Firth commented, standing up to stand beside the bog monster, his arms crossed.

“Three days later, on October twentieth, Toralei Stripe leaves her house around seven o’five am to walk to school and is abducted possibly shortly afterward. There are witnesses to be found in or around the area who can give any statement as to any suspicions persons or activity going on.

“October twenty-eighth, Romulus Canidae leaves his house at six-thirty at night, picks up Clawd Wolf at his house at around seven-fifty, and the two head off for a meeting of the Werewolf Coalition Board being held in Giles’ Gymnasium in the Grimswood town center,” he continued, “Based on the distance from the house and when the phone call to the department was made, abduction most likely took place between eight and eight-thirty.”

He trailed his hand down from where it had been poking the space in between the photographs he’d placed of the two teen werewolves in question, to another set of photographs. These ones displayed two other werewolves, a large framed dark grey wolfman and a smaller, lighter grey wolfgirl.

“At the same time that the Canidae boy leaves his house, Dougey Hairris and his ghoulfriend, Ascena Scarikson, are attacked by the perpetrator in the former’s house and are abducted. Then, at around ten twenty-two that same night, Silvi Timberwolf is asked by her mother to take out the garbage before she goes to bed. From what we can gather, she is abducted in her yard a few minutes later,” he said.

Grindylow tapped his index finger of the photograph of the Rottish grey she-wolf, before he side-stepped to the right and brought his attention to a photograph that lay perpendicular to the circle of the werewolf ones. This photo showcased that of a interspecies couple that consisted of a blonde minotaur and a green-skinned cyclops.

“November fourth: Manny Taur and Iris Clops go out for a date and arrive at the Drunken Kraken restaurant in Keizer at six forty-two. They stay, eat dinner, and leave at precisely seven fifty-six. Iris texts her mom that they’re on their way home at seven fifty-eight. There is no footage we can find of Manny’s car lingering in the area after that, so we suspect that abduction occurred between the times of eight and nine, when their parents first suspected something was off. Manny’s car has yet to be found, leaving us to believe that the perpetrator either took it for himself or that they crashed possibly somewhere in the forest.”

He stepped back, sighing as he looked back to the very first photographs they had placed on the pinboard.

“And now,” he said in a heavy voice, “Yesterday morning, at eight thirty-six am, the bodies of Moorey Surrey, and Harper Quill were discovered. Hellvira Karnstein remains missing.”

_What a fucking mess, _he thought bitterly.

This was precisely what they were all afraid of when the number of disappeared started to increase. Grindylow thought back to the speech that the sheriff had given to the press earlier in light of the revelation.

“_At this point in time, we have yet to determine the cause of death,” _Sheriff Effo had said, “_But I’m afraid that we can say with confidence that the manner was that of homicide. I would like to extend my sincerest apologies and condolences to the victims’ families for their loss. My team is working nonstop on the case to bring the individual responsible for these deplorable crimes to justice.” _

It was much easier said than done, considering that they were dealing with a killer that could vanish right before your very eyes.

The crime scene was of little help to his predicament. Even after the crime scene was searched extensively, the forensics team came up empty-handed.

Not even the consultation of Dr. Moreau, who was now officially involved with the case as he looked over reports and whatever tapes they had to try and get a better understanding of what kind of cryptid their perp was, put them even an inch ahead of where they’d been.

“_He leaves no scent like a ghost,” _the doctor had said, “_But if he were, he would be glowing on the camera footage. But if he can shadow travel, that would mean he has to be solid, like a hellhound or boogeyman. YET, the fact that he can manage to get from a two-story house to a car driving in the middle of the forest that’s at least ten miles away, then that would imply he’s A) either REALLY good at the shadow jump-thing, B) has some sort of teleportation abilities like a tengu, or that he’s some sort of wereanimal able to cover large distances.” _

Grindylow grit his teeth as he thought about those words.

“Just what we fucking needed,” he said bitterly, “As if this town needed any more reason for people to shut themselves away. The fucking media must be having a field day with this with how much they can twist it to the ultimate fear.”

He turned to Firth, “And you said Vitae said they couldn’t find anything.”

Firth shook his head. “Says that there were no footprints in the dirt of the ditch, or any tire tracks that would’ve suggested any dumping. The blood on the victims was all their own, and the little clothing we found them in was clear of spare hairs. Any litter at the scene was too damaged from the elements to be examined for prints.”

That earned him another noise of frustration from the water monster.

“What _are _we missing?!” Grindylow said, slamming his hands on the desk, “How does this guy manage to get everything done in the matter of five fucking minutes like he’s a character in a goddamn spy movie or something, and not leave so much as a fucking scent?! It’s like we’re chasing a fucking imaginary friend!”

Firth didn’t respond. He rested his elbow in one palm as he pressed his fingers against his lip, equally perplexed by the whole situation and trying to find some way to put it all together.

The door behind them opened and Vitae stepped in.

“Grindylow?” she called, “Ossium says he’s ready to see you.”

Grindylow sighed, “Maybe, just _maybe_, we can finally get some fucking leads here.”

“At the very least, it will help us get a profile on the way our guy works,” Firth said.

They followed Vitae down the hallway. Even with his two centuries under his belt, Grindylow felt a chill come over him as they made their way to the coroner’s office. He hated the small metal room, with its little shelves that housed dozens of cold corpses and the ever-lingering smell of decay and death that persisted even with the consistent bleaching of the night crew.

Ossium, the skeleton medical examiner, stood in front of a row of metal tables, tapping at the front of his jaws with a pen. He held a clipboard in the other. Two of the tables were covered with sheets.

As the three entered, he turned to look over his shoulder.

“Aw, good, you’re still here,” he said, “I was hoping to catch you before you left.”

“I take it that you’re done with the autopsies?” Grindylow asked.

Him, Firth, and Vitae moved to stand beside Ossium, all of them looking down at the first sheeted table.

“It’s going to take a few weeks for me to prepare the full report, since I have to wait for the toxicology tests to get back to me,” Ossium said, putting the clipboard down, “But it didn’t take long to find what could’ve killed both of them. Based on their wounds, though, it _did _take a while for the guy to actually deliver the final blow.”

Firth grimaced. He asked, “Were they that bad?”

“All I’ll say is: They suffered. That much is clear,” Ossium said with a grim expression.

He grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it down, exposing the body of Harper Quill under it.

Grindylow’s fists clenched as he looked at the various injuries that marred the poor harpy’s body. He’d caught a glimpse when him and Firth had been first called out to the crime scene, but seeing it all up close under the fluorescent lighting of the morgue. A wide variety of burns, gashes, bruises, and other obvious signs of torture discolored her skin. A sickening pattern of deep cuts had been carved into her upper chest area, the tender flesh of her breasts and collarbone area split to reveal the pink muscle and fat underneath. Under her, Grindylow could see that the plumage of her wings had been removed, and that the skin there was peeling and blistering. Her left wing and right shin were bent unnaturally with clear breakage. The right side of her face was puffy with swelling; there was dried blood under her nose and around her mouth area.

“Based on the posthumous temperature and the signs of rigor mortis beginning to set in,” Ossium explained, slowly walking around the table as he glanced down at the body, “They were killed recently. Probably no later than then the day before yesterday or the day before that. Several of their wounds show severe infection but some are also still fresh, so they were tortured for an extended period of time.”

He wagged his pen in Harper’s direction. “This one was cut like he was making some sort of pattern. She also has second degree burns from scalding, like she had hot water thrown on her or something of the sorts. Finally, as you can see here-“

He reached down and gently grasped Harper’s head with a gloved hand, slowly turning it to the side. Grindylow could see a deep cut had been delivered to her throat. It looked like it went almost all the way to her spinal cord.

“-He slit her throat. She’s not showing much signs of liver mortis, so she was most likely placed in a position where she would bleed out easily,” Ossium said.

Grindylow asked, “And the boy?”

Ossium turned to glance at the second table. “He has several burns reminiscent of a gold allergy, particularly around his neck and wrist area. His cuts, I noticed, all happen to be right over where every artery lies; they wouldn’t be deep enough for him to bleed to death right away, but enough that it was sure to put him in a world of hurt.”

“And the cause of death?” Firth asked.

Ossium gave him a look over the tops of his glasses, before he turned to a tray that sat at the foot of the table. He grabbed an object off it and held it out to them.

At first glance, Grindylow thought it was a steel wool sponge. But then, as he looked at it more, his eyes widened in horror as he realized it had a metallic glint to it and was covered in dried blood.

“Is that…” Vitae asked, flabbergasted.

Ossium nodded, “Fourteen carat gold. Found this shoved right down in his esophagus. Edges sliced right through his trachea and voice box. In addition to the hemorrhaging this surely would’ve brought, and the fact that for some werecats, gold is the equivalent of hydrochloric acid, it completely sealed off the air from his lungs. Poor kid asphyxiated in a matter of minutes.”

Firth shook his head in disbelief. “What kind of sick bastard…”

He trailed off, still in shock over what they had seen. Grindylow shook his head, hands on hips as he trailed his eyes over the young man’s injuries. Moorey’s face looked relax, with the eyes closed and the mouth just barely open. It was a stark contrast to the gory state of his body; he was covered in so many lacerations it was hard to determine where some ended and others began. Some of the meat from his calves and abdomen had been torn away like something like an animal bite, exposing the bone underneath.

The door slammed against the wall with a loud boom as someone suddenly burst into the morgue. Grindylow turned, seeing one of the recently employed officers, a dragon, standing there with a panicked look on his face.

“Detective!” he said, “There’s something that I think you need to see.”

Grindylow furrowed his brows in confusion but said nothing as he followed the dragon out of the morgue. Firth and Vitae trailed after him, curious to see what had occurred.

The dragon led them back into the main office. The rest of the investigative team was standing around, all of them wearing varying expressions of surprise and anger. They stood around in a circle, with the chief of police in the middle. All of them turned to Grindylow as he entered.

The chief wore a frown. He held out something to him. Grindylow looked down to see it was an envelope.

“One of the deputies found this on one of the squad cars just a few minutes ago,” he said.

Taking the envelope from him, Grindylow examined it. It hadn’t been sealed; he flipped it over. There on the back, someone had written **_FOR THE COPS _**in red marker. Grindylow frowned and opened the envelope, pulling out a folded sheet of paper.

Holding it in his hands, he skimmed the chicken scratch handwriting.

_Looks like you’ve found my precious lil hunt! A nice puma to make your new rug for and a plump little birdie for feasting- I took the effort of plucking her for you. I should say you, the poor kitty isn’t look too good. He seems to have a hairball stuck in his throat! _

_But where on earth could their little bat be? Well, looks like you’ll have to fang around a bit longer to see! _ _😉 _

_I will say, though, you all might want to hurry. The rest of them have been fun, but I’m starting to get a bit bored. Would be a shame if I ended up having to “break” them, if you catch my drift. _

“Oh, the son of a bitch is mocking us,” Grindylow growled. His hands crinkled the paper as he clenched it gather.

He looked up at the chief. “Did you check the security tapes for the lot?”

“Was just about to,” the chief said, “Figured you’d might want to try and make sense of what this means.”

“There’s not much to make sense of,” Grindylow said angrily, “The cocky bastard’s playing games. He’s sure that he can do this and that we won’t find him.”

He turned to his team, his face serious as he looked all of them in the eye.

“I want everyone to spread out and start looking for clues,” he ordered, “I want every camera in this place inspected and every nook and cranny inspected. Bring in the search dogs if you have to, but we track down any and everyone who was near this facility when this was left. I don’t care if it’s a jogger, a hitchhiking bum, or even one of you, if they can pin someone, you book them and bring them in for questioning.

“And when you do,” he said lowly, his eyes dark with an unspoken threat, “Bring them to me.”

* * *

The car ride was deathly silent.

It was unfitting, given the beautiful late autumn afternoon. The fallen leaves from the trees decorated the sidewalks in outstanding shades of deep red, orange, and gold. The sky was a lovely mix of blue and light pink with the sun starting to set, and the air had a nice crisp smell to it.

No matter how much of a painting the outdoors looked like, though, it wasn’t enough to deter the tension in the car. Deuce, Frankie, and Holt all sat, all three of them silent as the latter drove the three of them home. It was like they were all afraid of breaking the fragile silence.

Frankie leaned against the window, looking out the window with forlorn expression and mindlessly watching the scenery as they passed by. Deuce sat in the backseat, looking uncomfortable as he fidgeted in his seat and drummed his knuckles on his knees, his lip pursed in an unsure look. Holt’s expression was stony; he held the steering wheel in a white knuckled grip, and his jaw was tight.

It had been a slow, agonizing day at school. Frankie couldn’t even remember what she had learned that day in class, because it seemed all anyone could focus on was the terrible news that was delivered last night.

Every student who went missing was still missing.

But now, two of them were dead.

The one thing she could remember was in homeroom, how the teacher had delivered the news- as if everyone wasn’t already aware with all the rampant gossip- and had mentioned how the school had set up grief counseling for anyone who was close to Morrey or Harper and needed to talk to someone.

“’For those particularly affected by it?’” Cleo had repeated in ridicule when they were at lunch, “Two kids from our school just got fucking _murdered. _That kind of strikes a chord in more than just people they were friends with!”

She heard the small buzzing of her phone vibrating. Frankie frowned in annoyance; she could already guess what it probably said.

_Where r u? _her dad had texted for what to be the fifth time in the last two hours.

Frankie rolled her eyes and texted back, _Almost home. We’re passing the barber shop now. _

_Like I just said five minutes ago, _she thought exasperatedly. She knew her parents were only worried and riled up with everything- hell, everyone was- but their constant worrying did nothing to ease her own fears, and she found herself getting wound up every time they made it sound like they were getting riled up. She could see their concern, but now she couldn’t help but feel like she was starting to be smothered.

_Dad: I’m sorry, I already asked that. I’m just…having a hard time processing all of this. I love you. _

Even with his constant texting bothering her, Frankie gave a small smile. _I know, _she messaged, _I love you too. _

“Oh, goddammit,” Holt muttered.

She looked up from her phone to see that he’d been forced to stop in the middle of the road. In front of them, a construction crew worked around an open sewer drain as they lowered the hose from a vacuum truck into it. There were traffic cones set up across the stretch of the road, and a sign that read “Road Closed” and been propped up in front of them.

“If you take the detour, you can just make a loop around and be back on the main road,” Deuce said.

“I know,” Holt said, backing the car up.

“By the way, thanks for giving me a ride, man,” Deuce leaned in from the back seat, “I’m sorry that I asked so last minute. I have a twenty I can give you for guess.”

“Ah, it’s nothing bro,” Holt grinned at him over his shoulder, “Just as long as you don’t tell Cleo; I love that feisty lil’ queen, but I don’t really need her to think I’m going to start playing chauffeur.”

Deuce smirked. “Deal.”

Holt followed the makeshift lane that the construction had put up and then went through the roundabout, taking the long route that Deuce had mentioned that brought them into the human side of New Salem.

As they cruised through the neighborhoods, Frankie could see various people up on the sidewalk- people walking dogs, parents taking their kids home school, joggers. It was the complete opposite to the mood of the town on the monsters’ side, where most of the people had now become shut-ins and no one went anywhere anymore without at least three people.

“Oh look, they seem to think the circus is in town,” Holt said with amusement.

Frankie and Deuce turned their attention to the left to see several moms were glaring at the car warily, some of them shooting stink eyes at Holt as they walked by. As she watched, Frankie noticed how some of their eyes widened in sudden horror and they quickly looked away and urged their kids to move faster.

“Holt!” she exclaimed, immediately realizing what he was doing as she lightly smacked him on the chest.

“What?” Holt asked, grinning at her, “If they want to look, they’re obviously asking for a show! If they don’t like what they see, they don’t have to look!”

“Dude, you’re mean,” Deuce said, though he was smiling.

Holt shrugged, “Just doin’ what I do best.”

Frankie shook her head and rolled her eyes. Deuce did the former as well, but he couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s antics. Turning her attention back to the road, Frankie watched as Holt drove through the roundabout; she frowned as she noticed he failed to pause at the stop sign that was placed right in front of the entrance they were getting into.

“Uh, Holt, you just ran that stop sign,” she pointed out.

“I know,” Holt replied.

“_Holt!” _

“Aw, relax, Frankenfine, there’s nobody else around, we weren’t in any danger,” Holt defended, “Besides, the placement is stupid anyway. The whole point of traffic circles is to yield to one another, what good is stopping every five minutes and making everyone confused?”

That only earned him a frown of disapproval from Frankie, but she let it go

It seemed the little getaway wasn’t as smooth as Holt believed, however, because right as he said that, a flash of blue and red lights came from the backseat.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to take that question up with the po-po, dude,” Deuce said with a smirk.

Holt looked up at the rearview mirror, groaning as he slouched back in the driver’s seat.

“Dammit,” he muttered on his breath.

He sighed and pulled over on the curb in front of a house and parked. The police cruiser pulled up behind them as Holt dug around in his pocket for his wallet. He glanced up in the rearview again; what he saw made his eyes widen with anger.

“Oh, not this fucking prick, of all people,” Holt hissed.

Frankie glanced at him, observing the way his fists clenched tightly, before looking into the rearview to see who the officer was.

Her heart sank as she saw that it was the New Salem Sheriff- the same one from last Halloween.

“Holt…” she said in a soft tone.

The sheriff walked up to the car and stood by the driver’s side window.

“License and registration, please,” he commanded.

Holt had his lips pursed together in an annoyed expression as he leaned his hand out the window to hand him the documents. The sheriff took them and held them up. His hands paused, like he had noticed something, before he suddenly bent over to look in the window.

“Well, well, well, I remember you three!” he said with a grin, his gaze wandering from Holt- the blue-skinned monster kept his steely glare forward- to Frankie and Deuce, “It’s been a while! How have ya been?”

“Um, h-hi, Sheriff,” Frankie said in discomfort, “W-We’re well.”

“I _was _fine,” Holt muttered.

Her and the Sheriff shot him a look. The sheriff raised an eyebrow at his clipped tone, but said nothing to it. He stood back up.

“So, what are you three up to? It’s not every day we see cryptids patrolling this side of the tracks,” he said in observation.

“Construction blocked off the main route,” Holt said, “We’re taking a detour.”

“Ah,” the sheriff said.

He pulled out his ticket book and began to write something in it, before slowly turning on his heel to head back over to his squad car. Holt rolled his eyes impatiently.

Frankie furrowed her brows, confused by his behavior. She could get the irritation at being pulled over, but hatred and barely smothered fury were now radiating from him like waves off a jar of polonium. His nails dug into his jeans and his overall stance was tense.

She reached over and put her hand on top of his, feeling how tight he had it clenched. Holt turned his head to the side and gave her a small half-smile.

Deuce seemed to notice the sudden shift in mood as well, as he leaned into the open space between their seats and lay a hand on Holt’s shoulder.

“Hey, bro, you okay?” he asked, “You seem a little tense right now.”

Holt craned his neck to look up at him. The same ghost of a smile crossed his features as he regarded the gorgon.

“Just peachy,” he said.

He turned back in his seat and watched from the side mirror as the sheriff walked back up to their car.

“Here, you go,” the brunette said, handing back the license and proof of insurance.

Holt took them without a word; he kept his gaze glued to the front.

“Are you going to give him a ticket?” Frankie asked.

The sheriff smirked at her and shook his head.

“Normally, I would,” he said cheerfully, “But to be frank I find that stop sign placement a little ridiculous myself, so I’m just going to let you all off with a warning. Next time, though, make sure you stop. Patience is key, okay?”

“Whatever,” Holt muttered.

“Besides,” the sheriff said as he stood to his full height, “Knowing the…unfortunate circumstances that have befallen you kids’ community, I don’t think you need anymore trouble on your shoulders.”

“Oh, yeah, because you of all people actually gives a damn,” Holt mumbled.

Frankie and Deuce turned to him, shocked. The sheriff cast him a sharp look as well; his dark blue eyes narrowed as Holt looked back up at him with a challenging look.

The sheriff looked him in the eye as he bent down, leaning up against the top of the window.

“You have something you want to say, son?” he asked.

“Not to you, no,” Holt bit back, turning to face him. The sheriff took a small step backward, slightly taken aback by the amount of venom that shown in Holt’s amber-colored eyes. His resolve quickly returned, though, and he got in Holt’s face.

“Look, kid, I’m trying to be nice to you,” he claimed, “I know you all are probably going through a tough time. I can’t imagine how hard it is to have to be so young and deal with such terrible news like what you’ve been told-“

Holt scoffed, “Oh, yeah, you can’t imagine because it’s no longer imagination for you, ain’t it? Your little fantasy? Must feel pretty great, knowing someone’s finally doing your ‘Lord’s work’ that you and the rest of those pigs are too pussy to do yourself, ain’t it?”

“H-Holt!” Frankie exclaimed. 

The sheriff’s gaze went wide at the audacity of the teenage monster to speak to him in such a way. His face darkened and he gripped the sides of the car tightly.

“What the hell did you just say?” he asked in a low voice.

“You heard me,” Holt responded back with just as much bite, “Did you all have a party when you heard about it? Place bets on who’d be the next to go. Hell, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you had a hand in it- you are a cop after all. You know exactly how to handle this sort of thing.

“So are you?” he asked, “You and the hunter keeping everyone locked away, planning on where to put the bodies? Or does he just have you around to keep him ‘entertained?’”

Frankie gasped in alarm; who was this person sitting in front of her? Never, for as long as she’d known him and Jackson, had she heard Holt be so crass or…_mean, _before.

The sheriff’s face lit up bright red at the insinuation. His glare at Holt turned murderous.

“Why, you smart mouthed little _bastard_,” he snarled out, “I have half a mind to wipe that cocky little smirk right off your face.”

“Oh, please do,” Holt replied, “Hell, you don’t even have to remove the badge to do it. I know half the guys in your field don’t bother when it comes to wailing on people who happen to be the wrong skin color.”

“Dude, stop!” Deuce spoke up, “Just chill out already!”

Foregoing all sense of professionalism, the sheriff lunged forward and grabbed Holt by the collar, bringing his face close until the two were almost nose to nose.

The sheriff hissed at him, “You miserable motherfucker-!”

“Sheriff, please!” Frankie leaned over and grabbed Holt’s shirt, pressing herself up against his back as she looked up at the sheriff with a pleading look. With how furious the middle-aged cop looked, she was scared he’d actually make good on his threat.

The sheriff shot her a sour look over Holt’s shoulder. He glanced at Deuce, who had frowned at him and put a threatening hand to his glasses in warning. He turned back to Holt, who glared at him, silently daring him to make a move.

After a few tense seconds of silence, finally, the sheriff released Holt.

“Just get him out of my neighborhood,” he said in a low voice, “Before I change my mind.”

“Glad you can at least admit it,” Holt said in mockery, “You’re at least more honest than those holier-than-thou jackasses on you see on _Cops _every day.”

Deuce punched him in the arm. “Dude, _shut up.” _

The sheriff gave him one last scowl, before finally, he let go of the teen’s shirt and turned to face his squad car. He walked away with his fists balled, muttering a flurry of expletives under his breath.

As he slammed the door and started to pull out, Frankie finally confronted Holt.

“What is the _matter _with you?” she questioned.

“If he wants to act like such a big man because of that stupid badge, then he should be able to take it like a big man,” Holt said dismissively.

“You were completely out of line there!” Frankie scolded, “He was just making small talk and doing his job and you were being completely rude to him for no reason!”

“Yeah, man,” Deuce agreed, “You were seriously pushing it. You’re lucky he didn’t give you that ticket after all out of spite.”

Holt just rolled his eyes at them. “Oh, I’d be soooo scared.”

“Why are you acting like this?” Frankie asked, “He was just trying to be nice-“

“Well, pardon me for not being a complete ass-kisser for a guy who just last year was all too happy to lock us all up because we’re not one of the ‘precious’ humans like he is,” Holt snapped, “Not all of us have the gullibility to just eat up everyone’s bullshit smiles and fake apology like we’re stupid kids like you do, Frankie!”

Frankie recoiled, surprised at his uncharacteristic outburst. He’d never spoken to her like that before.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Deuce reprimanded, “I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to seriously calm the fuck down, bro.”

Holt must’ve seen the hurt flash across her face, because his angry expression quickly melted into one of remorse.

“Frankie, I-“

Frankie narrowed her eyes at him, any pain she felt from his words immediately buried under a mountain of anger. The way her eyes shone with tears she refused to shed, however, showed that she still felt the blow from his harshness. Her bolts sparked with hostility as she turned sharply in her seat, her fists balled in her lap as she looked ahead in the windshield.

“Can we please just go home now?” she asked, “I don’t need to make my parents worry more than they already are because you want to be a jackass.”

It was a low blow, but in that moment, she was too upset to care.

Holt’s gaze lingered on her; he clearly wanted to say more, but instead, in a manner unlike himself, he just drooped his shoulders in defeat and turned to face forward.

“Okay,” he said lowly, putting the car into drive and pulling off the curb.

The rigid silence that was present before now returned as Holt drove them through the rest of the human side of New Salem before getting back on the main road. He looked full of regret as he spared little glances in Frankie’s direction. Frankie kept her stare forward the entire time, her body tense as she tried to keep herself from making a scene. Deuce glanced between the two of them with a grimace, uncomfortable at having to witness the lovers’ quarrel.

Finally, they made it to their neighborhood and stopped in front of Deuce’s house. The gorgon gathered up his things and quickly got out of the car.

“Thanks for the ride again, bro,” he said to Holt, “I’ll see you guys later.”

“You know it,” Holt added.

“Bye,” Frankie said, giving him a small, strained smile and a wave.

Deuce nodded at them and they watched as he trotted up to his front porch.

After he’d gone inside, Holt let his foot off the brake and started driving again. A few blocks over, he pulled into the driveway of Frankie’s house and put on the brake.

Still giving him the silent treatment, Frankie gathered up her things. She didn’t even spare him a glance as she muttered a parting goodbye to him and reached out to open the door, only to find it wouldn’t budge.

Balling her fist, she said, “Unlock the door, Holt.”

“Frankie, wait,” Holt said, “Let me explain.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much for you to explain,” Frankie snapped, “You made your feelings clear.”

“Please, I’m sorry,” Holt replied, “I know, I was a dick. You didn’t deserve that.”

She looked at him with doubt. Unable to find any sign of insincerity in his face, she let go of the door and turned to face him.

“Holt, seriously, what’s going on with you?” she asked, “You’ve got sass, sure, but you’ve never mouthed off to someone like that.”

“I don’t regret doing that,” Holt defended, “I feel bad that I dragged you and Deuce into it and that I snapped at you, but I don’t regret that. That guy’s had it coming for a while.”

“But _why, _though?” Frankie pressed, “I’ve never seen you this…_mean _before.”

Holt was silent. She watched as he sighed and slouched in his seat, mindlessly staring at the tassel hanging down from the rearview mirror. Finally, he started to explain himself.

“I don’t trust him,” he admitted.

Frankie couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah, I mean, _that _part is obvious.”

“No, I mean I don’t trust that he just decided to give his little bullshit condolences just because he felt like it,” Hot said with a frown, “I don’t trust that he’s not hiding something.”

“What are you talking about?” Frankie asked in confusion.

The look he gave her was probably the most serious she’d ever seen Holt Hyde.

“Don’t you think that it’s a little bit suspicious that the same cop who was harassing us all Halloween sophomore year, who very clearly still hated monsters even after we made peace with Clair and all of them and had the Halloween party and only didn’t do more because he didn’t want to make a scene, would suddenly start caring out of the blue,” Holt explained, “Don’t you think it’s a bit weird that he’s suddenly asking questions like he feels bad?”

“Maybe he’s changed,” Frankie refuted.

Holt shook his head. “Nah, not guys like him. The fact he didn’t even care that I had nothing to do with vandalizing their school just shows he was waiting for a moment to be able to beat us monsters down.

“After we screwed up their plans, he had to be burning for some revenge,” he continued, “What better way than to finally make the feared the fearful?”

“What, you think _he _had something to do with Abbey and all the others?!” Frankie asked, staring at her boyfriend stupidly as she caught the hidden meaning of his words.

Holt leered as he stared off into space. “It would make sense- he’s in law enforcement, he’s had to seen at least a dozen crime scenes and missing persons cases, he’s probably learned a thing or two about what to do to make sure you can get away with it. That’s why nobody can find where any of them are- he’s seen enough to know where you’d put someone who’d never be found.

“It can’t just be him though,” he said, “He’s just a puny human. He’d never be able to take down someone like Abbey or Clawd by himself. He must have a partner. Someone who knows a lot about monsters and how to take them down. Someone who just so happens to live around here.”

He turned his head to look at Frankie as it dawned on her who he was implying. She rolled her eyes, exasperated. She’d thought he’d given the idea a rest already.

“Are you really bringing this up again?” she questioned.

“Come on, Frankie, think about it!” Holt argued, “Who else could have an obviously extensive knowledge of different monster species that they’re able to take down multiple kinds of them without leaving so much as a hair out of place in most of them? None of this started to happen until after that blonde motherfucker was finally free to go bother people again!”

He held up his hand, counting off his fingers as he rattled off names, “Think of all who’s gone missing: Hellvira- one of the Belfry prep vamps, co-head of the Vampowerment movement and someone who was actively involved when the whole vamp-wolf fight was going on during the integration. Clawd and Romulus-: Two werewolves, both of them also involved in the fight with one being the leader of the werewolves and the other dating a vampire who Van Hellscream actively tried to instigate to break up because they’re supposed to be worst enemies. Rom’s friend and his ghoulfriend? Also involved with the werewolves. Abbey? The first one to figure out that he wasn’t to be trusted and the gothdaughter of the woman who Van Hellscream worked against. The others by this point were probably all just bonuses, his way of screwing with us for fun.”

Frankie shook her head in disbelief, unable to process everything he was throwing at her all at once. She stammered, “T-That can’t be right. That, that doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t what? Doesn’t sound like him?” Holt gave her a look, “He’s a monster hunter, Frankie. A descendant of the original Van Helsing. It sounds _exactly _like something he’d do.”

“But, but all his items got confiscated, there’s no way he’d be able to his hands on so many artifacts with his expulsion from the Council,” Frankie pointed out, “Lilith said-“

Holt gave a deep groan and rolled his eyes at all.

“Yeah, yeah, Lilith said that, Lilith said this, Lilith’s said a lot of shit,” he said, “Frankie, has it ever occurred to you that she might be lying?”

Right as he said that, Frankie was about to point out all the updates Lilith had given them about her uncle, but she paused at his comment. She stared at him incredulously. Holt raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“After all, he’s her ‘dear old uncle’, the one who told her plenty of stories since she was a child about his ‘fantastic’ exploits hunting down and killing monsters,” Holt continued, “The one she wanted to be just like. She hasn’t seen him in over a year, probably wanted to spend some quality bonding time with him.”

“She doesn’t think that way anymore and you know it,” Frankie said sharply.

“Do I?” Holt shot back, “I’ve done the math, Franks. Every time she’s told us he’s back in the town is when someone else vanishes. And every time, she just happens to be preoccupied. Oh, she’s got ice skating lessons, oh she’s got an event to go to at the edge of the county. Whether she’s working with that cop or just her uncle, she’s involved one way or another.”

“Holt, think about what you’re saying,” Frankie tried to reason, “If Lilith’s really involved, why would she even tell us that he’s even here, or even that he was getting out of stone? It doesn’t make any sense that she’d tell us things could outright expose them both if she really wanted to hurt us.

“I mean, she saved you from the Trick-or-Treatment!” she added, “She fessed up to the sheriff that the vandalism was her doing and didn’t want him to go through with it? Why would she go through all that effort if she really wanted to follow her uncle?”

“She probably just wanted to save the final blow for herself,” Holt said darkly, “For all we know, she’s been leading us on this entire time. What better way for the wolf for to the prey all alone then leading the naïve little lambs astray?”

He sounded so cynical and bitter, it was nothing like the usual chaotic fiery pep that Frankie had come to know and love about the blue-skinned monster. The sneer on his face, the darkness in his eyes, it was nothing like the usual Holt. It was as if he’d been swapped out for a doppelganger of himself.

“Holt, where is this all coming from?” she asked, “You’ve never acted like this before. You’ve always acted like you liked Lilith.”

“I did,” Holt clarified, “At least…one time, I thought I did. But ever since this shit started, I’ve had too many doubts. Too many things go hand in hand for it to be coincidence.”

He turned to her. For the first time since they got in the car, he reached out to touch her; he took her hand in his and laced their fingers together. His eyes were much softer now, and were almost, if she didn’t know any better, even slightly fearful.

“I know she’s your friend and you trust her. And I’m not telling you to stay away from her or anything,” he said, “But please, Frankie, be careful. Maybe I’m wrong and I’m just talking crazy because all this paranoia’s going to my head, but I’m telling you, it never hurts to keep your guard up.”

Frankie’s expression softened at the pleading tone in his voice. She looked down at their hands, noting the contrasts of their skin tones. Pale green against vibrant blue. Holt squeezed hers tightly, causing her to look back up at him.

His behavior worried her. She didn’t like this energy she could feel coming from him. This anger, this distrust. Holt was an easygoing guy, never one to rock the boat unless he was the one wanting to be the unlife of the party; he took everything with a grain of salt and went without a care to a fault. He wasn’t rude or hostile towards people, especially someone like Lilith, who should’ve been his friend.

The amount of concern and love that currently filled Holt’s brilliant sunstone-colored gaze, though, made her chest tighten, and despite the part of her that still wanted to argue with him that he was being unreasonable, she found herself backing down.

“I…I will, Holt,” she finally said, squeezing hand back, “I promise.”

Holt smiled at her lovingly. He gently caressed her knuckles with his thumb, the metal of the ring on his cool against her skin.

He looked forward as one of the curtains near the front windows pulled back. Alivia popped out from behind and tilted her head at them. Holt smiled and waved at her; Alivia perked up at him and gave a big grin, waving back with her entire arm.

“Okay, I think I’ve kept your parents fretting long enough,” Holt said, “I should probably let you go now, lest they start bringing out the search and rescue mutant hounds.”

He leaned over as Frankie gathered up her things once more. She cooed as he kissed her cheek.

“Think about what I said,” he commented as he unlocked the door, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Frankie said, finally opening the door and stepping out.

She walked up the walkway and up to the porch. Inside, Alivia darted away from the window, and Frankie could hear her shouting _‘Frankie’s home, Frankie’s home!’ _loudly.

Inside, the warm scents of cooked sausage and homemade spaetzle greeted her nostrils. Viveka stood at the stovetop, stirring a pot of what looked to be some sort of sauce, while Viktor set the table. Alivia sat on the floor, giving Watzit a belly rub.

“You and Holt were out there for quite a long time,” Viveka commented as Frankie walked into the kitchen, “Everything all right?”

“Um, yeah,” Frankie said, “He just wanted…to talk, is all.”

Viveka looked up from stirring, noting the slightly unsure tone of her voice. Thankfully, though, she didn’t press further and just turned back to her pot.

“Well, go put your stuff away and wash up,” she ordered, “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Frankie replied. She stepped forward to give her and Viktor a kiss on the cheek and give Alivia a hug, before she turned towards the stairs. 

In her room, as she took off her shoes and jewelry, Frankie thought back to what Holt had told her about his suspicions.

He was just talking nonsense, she told herself. Lilith was their friend; she’d demonstrated numerous times that she no longer held the anti-monster beliefs that she originally had when they first met. She was always willing to hang out with Frankie and others, even against the wishes of her parents. A few times when her and Clair were together, they’d overheard when Lilith argued with one of them, and it was clear that she did not intend to carry on her family legacy.

Not to mention, the boys had gotten on with her just fine. Jackson had mainly just been happy to finally have some human friends, and Holt didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the reveal that Lilith had framed him. He had just been relieved to not have ended up losing his head and had been delighted to meet Lilith; it had actually been to the point that Frankie noticed the poor blonde seemed a little overwhelmed by his gregarious nature.

So, when did he suddenly start feeling the opposite? It wasn’t just his vocal concerns that bothered Frankie, it was his overall attitude with the cop as well.

Had this crassness and pessimism come about because of what was happening? Or had he always had such distinct crassness and she was too preoccupied to notice otherwise?

And no matter if he turned out to just be venting or he by some small unlikely chance ended up being right about Van Hellscream, what did he plan to do with this information?

Frankie’s grip on her necklace tightened at the thought.

A sudden wave of panic clawed at her; she tried to tell herself that she was being silly- Holt was a good guy, he’d never resort to such a move- but the intrusive ideas still pushed at her mind.

_What if he tries to go after them because he’s so convinced they’re guilty? _

She didn’t know what exactly it entailed if he did go “after them” and she didn’t want to know.

"Please have some common sense, Holt," she whispered to herself, "Before you end up doing something you'll regret." 

* * *

“…So of _course, _when I just need the graphs in physical form and then I’ll be done, the printer suddenly decides to suddenly jam and break down for no reason!” Cleo huffed, “It just had to happen the night before everything is due and when it’s for the first class we have, when it’s too late for me to go to the library in town.”

She heard Lagoona chuckle over the phone. _“It’s okay, mate. Just e-mail me everything and I’ll be able to print it out in my aunt’s office after Gil and I get back and everything will be ace.” _

There was a large muffled sound somewhere in the background. Cleo wrinkled her nose as a chorus of large squeaks suddenly rang in her ear.

“What the hell’s that?” she asked.

“_Sorry,” _Lagoona said, “_Gil’s shoes are squeaking from the water on the floor and me phone’s picking it up. Speaking of which…” _

Cleo heard her muffle the phone with her hand and shout, “_Gil, be careful! Don’t run near the pool!” _

The sound got clearer a second later as she came back on. _“Man, the echo in this place is massive when there’s not a lot of people! I’m not even talkin’ that loudly and I still sound like a yobbo.” _

“Why did you decide to go to the gym so late, anyway?” Cleo asked, noting the time on her watch; it was a little past eight o’clock.

“_Well, me ‘n him have been so busy with tests and all that and swim practice, we’ve both been a little lax on our workout routines. We normally go after school,” _Lagoona explained, “_So we both finally got a clear spot in our schedules and decided ‘Why not?’ It’s actually pretty nice; you don’t have to wait for equipment and the smell of BO isn’t nearly as potent. And you don’t have any weird people staring at you in the locker room.” _

Cleo smirked, “I would imagine. That way you and Gil get to have a little more ‘quality time’ together where you won’t be interrupted, right?”

“_O-Oi, Cleo!” _Lagoona exclaimed.

“Oh, don’t play innocent, you know you thought about it at least once!” Cleo joked, “That or you both are happy you get to rub one out without anyone seeing you.”

“_I heard that!” _she heard Gil shout from nearby.

“_Do you snog your mother with that mouth, mate?” _Lagoona asked.

“No, but I do my boyfriend. He loves it,” Cleo responded sweetly.

She heard a door slam- Lagoona leaving the front of the gym and letting it close behind her. Her grin widened as she heard Lagoona groan at her comment.

“Anyway,” she said, changing subjects, “I’ll send you the links to the graphs. Just don’t forget about it, though, okay?”

“_Oh, I won’t,” _Lagoona replied, “_I put a reminder on my phone for when I get out of the shower. Gil, can you open the door?...Gil?” _

Cleo paused, lifting her head from where she’d been laying on her bed. “Everything okay there?”

“_Um, yeah. Gil was behind me, since he was turning in our locks to the lady at the front desk,” _Lagoona said, “_I swear I could’ve heard him come out…_

“_Gil?...Where could he be…I can’t see him anywhere inside,” _Lagoona said, “_Gil!” _

“Maybe he went out the back?” Cleo suggested.

“_I don’t know why he’d do that, it’s much quicker going out the front…Gil!” _Lagoona called out again.

It went silent on her end as she received no response.

Cleo jumped as suddenly, she could hear a sound of a man’s scream erupt from the other end of the phone.

“_GIL!” _Lagoona shouted.

Cleo sat up on her bed. “Blue? Blue, what’s going on?”

Lagoona’s voice came out as a whimper, “_I…I don’t see anything. I-I don’t know where it came from, b-but it sounded like him, Cleo…” _

“Lagoona, listen to me,” Cleo said carefully, “You need to get out of there. Get into the car and drive as fast as you can.”

“_G-G-Gil has the keys,” _Lagoona sniffled.

The phone made a sound like it was being switched to the other hand, before Cleo heard banging.

“_HELP!” _she could hear Lagoona scream, “_Help, please, let me in!” _

“Lagoona!”

“_I can’t see her,” _Lagoona sobbed, “_She’s not there.” _

“Sweetie, hold on, I’ll be right there!” Cleo said, scrambling off her bed to grab her purse and a pair of shoes.

She suddenly paused, though, as she heard Lagoona’s breath hitch.

“_W-W-Who are you?” _the sea monster questioned to someone, “_S-Stay away from me!” _

Cleo’s skin prickled at the words.

“B-Blue?” she said shakily, “What’s happening? Who’s there?”

“_N-N-No, d-don’t come any closer,” _Lagoona continued to order, “_L-Leave me alone. N-NO, NO, GET AWAY!” _

“Lagoona!” Cleo cried out.

There was a clatter from the other end that sounded like Lagoona had dropped the phone. Cleo could hear her run away as she screamed.

“_GET OFF ME! GET OFF, PLEASE! NO!” _she screamed somewhere in the distance, “_HELP! SOMEBODY!” _

She let out a cry of pain, before everything went quiet.

“Lagoona!” Cleo shouted, “Lagoona, say something!”

Nothing.

Then, ever so softly, she could hear a small crunching sound nearby. Like that of boots on gravel. Cleo froze. She kept the phone pressed to her ear, afraid to make a move even though she couldn’t be seen.

She could hear the phone being picked up by someone.

Heavy breathing came over the line. A chill ran down Cleo’s spine.

Then the line went dead, leaving her in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes: 
> 
> -I'm sorry if the times that are discussed are inconsistent with what was said in previous chapters. Admittedly, one of the major things I struggle with in my writing is keeping track of the dates and times listed. 
> 
> -Updates are going to be coming a little slower than they have been for the last few months. This quarter, my schedule is much heavier than it was at the beginning of the school year, so I'm going to have a lot less free time. I know it's frustrating, especially with how close I am do being done with UtRL, but please be patient with me. It's my senior year of college, and as much as I'd rather be working on my stories, schoolwork does come first.


	10. Chapter 9: Blood in The Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The last three scenes of this chapter contain depictions of torture as well as rape in the very last scene. Discretion is advised.

Dracula rubbed his eyes, feeling another migraine start to form as the bickering continued around him. After over five thousand years, one would’ve thought he’d been used to the constant yelling and going in circles that tended to be common with meetings, but he was quickly finding that, if anything, they all just made him all the more impatient to have it done with.

In front of him, Town Hall was filled to the brim as various monsters occupied the foldable chairs that they had set up for various town meetings. Most of them were parents of students at Monster High; many of them Dracula knew, either through that connection or by them being old acquaintances in the Old World, though there were a few unfamiliar faces in the crowd.

He and a few other parents, all of them part of the New Salem Monster Council, sat up on the stage at a table, their names put out in front of them on placards to showcase their position on the council. Bloodgood sat next to him on the left; taking his hand away from his face, Dracula could see she looked just as worn down from this night as he was currently feeling.

Not that he expected any different feeling, to be honest.

He didn’t exactly think that a topic such as the town’s body count of missing children was going to be rainbows and sunshine.

“What I don’t understand is how the police _still _have not managed to make any leads since this whole thing started!” a sasquatch at the front of the crowd growled as he stood up, “They have way more resources at their disposal than the human police and yet I haven’t heard anything about any suspects or witness sketches or anything!”

“I know it’s frustrating, but I assure you, the police are actively working around the clock to try and find those missing and identify those responsible,” Dracula said firmly, “But some information still has to be confidential, and we can only give as much input as they provide to us.”

“What are we supposed to do about the children’s safety, then?” a hysterical looking wereshark asked, “I-I mean, one of those poor girls got snatched up just walking to school. I work two jobs, my daughters have to walk to the bus stop. How can I know the same thing isn’t going to happen to them?”

“We’re going to do everything we can in regards to the children’s safety,” Bloodgood reassured, “Extra security has been hired to monitor the students in both the parent drop off and the bus loading zones, and we are going to limit extracurricular activities for now. We are also currently trying to form a neighborhood watch to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity.”

“Great, so we have to sacrifice our kids’ futures because the police can’t do their job,” a pegasus said angrily, “What’s next? We don’t even send them to school? We just hole up in our houses and pray our asses off he won’t take our babies next, like we’re lab rats in a cage?!”

“I know it’s a difficult situation,” Dracula tried to reason, “But as long as-“

“We are not going to accomplish anything as long as we continue to sit here and argue like a bunch of children,” Ramses De Nile interrupted him, “I think it is about time we stop dancing around the elephant in the room and finally address it: The fact that it is obvious those deplorable humans from the town over are involved.”

The entire hall went silent. Many of the parents in the crowd stared at Ramses, shocked at the statement. Some of them narrowed their eyes in confusion, obviously not thinking along the same lines as he was.

Dracula frowned and shot a venomous glare towards the mummy. This was the exact subject he’d been hoping to avoid for tonight, knowing that it would only raise tensions.

_Leave it to King Bandage n’ Bones to be dramatic as usual, _he thought to himself in annoyance.

From the back of the rows, Viktor stood up and pointed at Ramses accusingly.

“You don’t know that, Ramses,” he said with a frown.

“Oh, come off it, Stein,” Ramses waved him off, “The evidence is clear as rainwater. Ever since they welcomed that godsforsaken monster hunter back with disgustingly open arms, things have been going awry. The man tried to endanger our children’s lives before, there’s no doubt in my mind he’d take the first chance he got to do it again.”

The parents glanced at one another, unsure of how to process this information. The hall started buzzing as they murmured amongst themselves. Dracula clenched his fist and sent Ramses another dirty look.

“I heard that Van Hellscream had all his artifacts taken away, though,” a snake cryptid said as he raised his hand.

Ramses looked at him and gave him a look. “Allegedly, yes. _But, _as some of us are old enough to know, there’s plenty of more monster hunters in the world besides the Van Hellscream family.”

He folded his hands together and looked out upon the crowd with a serious expression.

“Which is why we should act,” he said boldly, “We have the right to protect ourselves and our families, and if the police aren’t going to do anything about it, then I say we do. Give those humans what _real _monsters can really do.”

The muttering in the crowd grew louder. To Dracula’s displeasure, he could see some nodding in their heads in agreement, as some semblances of ‘_yeah’ _echoed out.

From the front, Medusa shot up in her seat.

“The police have also stated they have found evidence that the perpetrator is some sort of shadow traveler,” she said scathingly to Ramses, “They have security footage showing such abilities, which means the person in question is a cryptid of some sorts. There’s no evidence whatsoever that the humans are involved! You’re proposing a which hunt based on nothing but your own personal biases!”

“Maddie’s right,” Venus McFlytrap’s father spoke up, “And even if a human is involved, what good will come of us storming in like an armada and making them fear us more than they already do? It has taken us thousands of years to come out of the shadows and prove to humans that we are not the soulless savages they believed us to be in the Old World. Do not let your paranoia and fear blind you all to letting yourselves become living stereotypes!”

People’s voices grew louder as a handful gave a few exclamations of agreement. Dracula could see Ramses and the other monsters looking annoyed.

“Well, if it is a monster, who the hell could it be?” a vampire shouted from the back, “I heard that they managed to take all those wolf kids within minutes of each other! That means that person had to have known where they were going to be, doesn’t it?!”

“All of them were students at this school,” a werehyena said, her eyes wide with a realization, “What if it’s someone who lives in the town itself? Someone who’s stalking our kids to see when they’re at their most vulnerable?”

The unrest in the crowd grew.

“Well, then, why aren’t the police questioning those shadow jumpers? They’re bound to catch someone without an alibi sooner or later?” a light elemental suggested.

To the right, a smoke elemental turned in his chair and gave her an annoyed look.

“Oh, so all us teleporters deserve to be put under a microscope because of one person, is that it?” he questioned.

“Y’all haven’t exactly been known for staying out of places that don’t belong to you,” a swamp creature replied snidely, “I’m old enough to remember all those stories in the old world of some of y’all sneakin’ into homes to steal supplies.”

“Oh ho, so the sewage monster whose kind for kidnapping children and drowning them wants to hammer off about suspicious species?” a vampire snapped back.

“Like a bloodsucker like you has any room to talk,” a phoenix replied, “Your kind loves to be all sweet on those humans if it means getting some extra blood to feed your lust.”

An uproar of disapproval erupted from the crowd as several parents turned in their seats, clearly offended by the comments being thrown. The volume started getting louder as they voiced their anger, some even standing up from their seats like they wanted to get physical.

Dracula glanced back and forth at the crowd, watching the tension rise. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his chair out, about to stand up and call for order, only to be beaten by Bloodgood as the Headless Horseman’s daughter shot up out of her seat and slammed her hands on the surface of the table.

The action stunned Dracula, who jumped at the sound. To add to it, Nightmare stood up on her hind legs and thundered her front hooves down on the stage several times, emitting several loud booms that echoed through the grand expanse of the town hall.

The crowd immediately silenced. All heads turned to the headmistress, everyone stunned. Bloodgood looked out upon all of them with a stern expression, her dark blue eyes narrowed.

“That’s quite enough,” she said, her voice loud and bold; exactly that expected of the principal of a school, “We are all gathered here to have a civil discussion about the welfare of all your children, not to scream and throw around bigoted accusations at one another like a bunch of little toddlers. You are all adults- many of you for several hundred years- act like it.”

Dracula glanced up at her from the side, taking in her tall stance and the way she held her head high. Even after two thousand years of knowing each other, Bloodgood still managed to impress him with how easily she managed to restore order. He looked out in the crowd to see Harriet and Clawrk smirking.

“If any of you insist on continuing this immature name calling, then I would think best that you leave right this minute,” Bloodgood added, her eyes scanning the crowd.

The monsters all looked away from her, everyone looking deeply ashamed as they quietly took their seats without another word. They kept their heads down, any trace of the anger that flooded them just moments ago completely erased.

Dracula shot a look over at Ramses. With some slight amusement, he noticed the pharaoh kept his gaze locked onto his glass of water. He didn’t look happy, but made no attempt to speak up. Not even parents or a former king of Egypt, he thought, wanted to be called on by the principal.

Satisfied, Bloodgood pulled her chair back and sat down.

“Now,” she said in a calmer voice, lacing her fingers together, “Let’s get back to the topic at hand.

“As I’ve said, we are taking the measures necessary to ensure that the children are protected while they are at school,” she picked up, “I know they and many of you are not happy with the hiatus of the students’ after-school programs being put on hold, especially because of scholarships and because some of you work extended hours, so if there’s any conflicts, some of the staff have volunteered to carpool any students who don’t have an immediate pick up so that there will be no risk of them being left alone…”

They discussed the rest of the new policies that were to be implemented at the school in the coming next few days. Dracula and the board answered questions on what the police were going to do in terms of monitoring the neighborhoods for any suspicious activity or checking for possible suspects. By the end, it seemed they managed to put a few of the parents at ease, though most were still upset at what they felt were only band-aid solutions.

Once the meeting was dismissed and people were leaving town hall, Dracula turned to where Ramses and a few other of the parents stood off near the entryway.

“You just had to go and try and put on the Oscars, didn’t you, De Nile?” Dracula asked in annoyance as he confronted the mummy.

Ramses turned to him and gave him a glare of his own. “I was only speaking what was on everyone’s minds. If they have suspicions, I’m not going to dance around them and feed them a lie.”

“By making them even more paranoid and distrustful of a group based on unfounded fears?” Viveka questioned, glaring at him, “We just managed to finally make peace with New Salem’s human community last year-“

“After their rotten children vandalized the school and their joke of a sheriff tried to have an innocent lad executed for it,” Ramses reminded her sharply, “Pardon me for not thinking that a few drinks and one night of dancing will erase what was weeks of harassment built off of hundreds of years of their ancestors’ persecution.”

“If my memory serves me correctly, it wasn’t just them spreading lies,” Hugo Vondergeist reminded him, “I do believe it was _your _daughter who was putting fake messages on Holt’s social media to further paint the image that he was the vandal.”

Ramses shot him a hot look. “_My _daughter was also the one who came to me crying her eyes out four days ago because she had to listen while her friend was abducted in the middle of their phone call, who’s other friends are still missing because for some reason these fucking policemen are just going in circles!

“You all can believe what you like, but I’ve been around long enough to know when something spells out a cover-up,” he said, “I will not sit around and let a possible murderer walk around scot free just because it may burst this pathetic little bubble of ‘peace’ we might have with those humans.”

“What if you’re wrong, though?” Dracula asked, “What if it turns out Van Hellscream isn’t responsible after all? You may just very well be fueling a witch hunt; it may just bring further danger to us.”

“if that’s so, you’re free to say ‘I told you so,’” Ramses replied, “Until then, though, I’m going to go with what I know, and that is that men like Lawrence Van Hellscream do not take their punishments lying down. He is involved, one way or another, and if we’re not careful, he’ll take all of us down.”

With that, he turned and walked away from them, his fists balled at his sides. Dracula and the rest of their friends’ group watched him go, the former shaking his head.

“Always has to have the last word,” he muttered.

“He’s scared,” Hugo said, “Seeing Cleo’s reaction when she told him what she heard probably really spooked him. Knowing that your child had that sort of experience probably makes you feel extra paranoid about how close the terror is.”

Maddie huffed, “Well, he’s not the only one scared around here. I mean, Bloodgood had to hear Abbey being abducted right _above _her. Or what about Clawrk and Harriet? They’ve been practically running themselves ragged ever since Clawd disappeared.”

She crossed her arms and huddled into her jacket. “I hope he’s just talking out his ass for now. Deuce has friends on the human side; if any of this animosity gets back to him…”

“It won’t,” Dracula reassured her, “Ramses is just bluffing. You know how he likes to put on a show.”

Still, though, when him and Ramoanah had said their goodbyes to everyone and had started back to their car, Ramoanah turned to him with a curious glance.

“Do you really think he’s going to do something?” she asked.

“Him? No. Not directly; De Nile if he goes on too strong, it could hurt him,” Dracula replied, “But he will talk. Find those who are starting to feel the same way. They’ll probably start talking to press, demanding more action from the police, both the human and cryptid ones.”

_And then if the human police takes offense, it’ll hell in a hand basket from there, _he thought tiredly.

He knew Ramses was fearful of the situation and truly, underneath the annoying pomposity and gait, did want only the best for the monster community and his daughters (it was really, really, _really _hard to see it, but once in a blue moon, it was there). That didn’t mean that it wasn’t irritating as all hell when he let his royalty go to his head and couldn’t get with the times.

Dracula sighed heavily. It had been an exhausting couple of months. People afraid to go out anymore or leave their kids alone, dead teenagers, numerous questions with no answers- it was like being back in the Old World all over again.

_Now I’m starting to see how the humans back then must’ve felt, _he thought bitterly to himself.

“Vlad, that thing he said, about Van Hellscream…” Ramoanah spoke up, “Do…do you think he possibly be right about that?”

Dracula gave her a look.

“To be honest?” he replied, “I actually don’t. Van Hellscream may be clever, but he’s not that clever. There’s no way he’d leave that clean of a getaway, with no scent or prints. Especially with the lack of resources he has, he’d be more likely to make amateur mistakes.”

It was truly what he was thinking. Though he held nothing but contempt for Abraham’s rat-faced descendant- the entire family, for that matter, given his history with them- Dracula found that, among the small suspicions and theories he was having, Van Hellscream was not among one of them.

For one, the administrator would’ve never resorted to such tactics like dressing up as if he were a comic book supervillain. Such behavior was juvenile, as was allowing himself to be caught on camera. If he were to hypothetically kidnap a child from their own home, someone like Van Hellscream would’ve taken extra precaution to remain out of sight- disable any security systems and alarms, make sure to leave no trace of someone even being there.

Furthermore, it just made no sense chronologically. All the werewolf kidnappings had occurred within probably an hour or so of each other, and unless the man had secretly been superhuman or had some sort of magic ability all this time, it was obliviously impossible for him to have been able to go from a road on the other side of town back into the neighborhood within ten minutes.

There was the suggestion that he had help from other sources, but Dracula knew that it was also unlikely. No self-respecting monster specialist would dare tarnish their images by associating with Van Hellscream now. He had damaged his reputation, embarrassed his legacy by being so sloppy in his attempt to cover up his true goals and by being defeated by a group of teenage girls of all people, one of which who wasn’t even two years old. He was a disgrace to hunters everywhere, and his family name wouldn’t change that.

No, the person responsible for these kidnappings had to be a monster. He’d seen the footage that the police had collected from the Hairris household- such fluidity and agile movements as the masked person had demonstrated with their shadow traveling could only come from someone born with it as a natural ability. Only a monster could truly move as if they were one with the shadows.

Dracula would know. He’d spent three hundred years lurking in said shadows as he stalked the people of Transylvania in the night.

No matter. No matter how seasoned this person was, nobody was truly a perfect a predator. Everyone made mistakes, left something out, overlooked some detail. The guy was good, no doubt, but Dracula doubted he could be that good.

Sooner or later, he’d make a mistake. It was grating, having to wait around with bated breath like a bunch of spooked rabbits, but Dracula was a patient man. The perp would make a mistake, and they’d find him.

And when they did, Dracula knew he would be front and center to enjoy ripping the man limb from bloody limb.

* * *

Frankie looked up at the house, taking a deep breath before she started up the steps of the porch. She hated the fact that she felt anxious being here, when she’d been to this house plenty of other times and normally felt nothing but love and relaxation then. But, considering how her and Holt’s last conversation when, she was slightly wary that any topic would lead to another argument.

Jackson had had a doctor’s appointment today and ended up missing Mad Science, so he had asked her if she’d be all right with bringing his homework later. Frankie agreed, but couldn’t help but be a little bit on edge.

She’d been thinking about Holt had said to her in the car, on his whole theory of Lilith and her uncle being involved with the kidnappings. They hadn’t had a chance to be alone together since then, and the more she thought about it, the more it bothered her.

It just seemed so left-field how distrustful and bitter Holt had become at the subject. He hadn’t acted as hot-headed as he did at school, but there was a noticeable shift in his behavior. Now, when them and their friends’ group gathered for lunch- of which were now spent in silence, as their circle seemed to grow smaller and smaller- she noticed Holt would get this look in his eye.

He’d just sit there, silently staring off into the distance, his hands down on the table in front balled tightly into fists. His face would be stony and there’d be a look in his eye, one that she truly had never seen before up until these last few weeks, when he finally spoke up his suspicion of Lilith.

It was pure, raw hatred. Hatred and fury, each so intense it made his eyes even brighter, like he was about to erupt into an inferno at any second. He had never directed the look at her or anyone else in their group, but every time Frankie caught sight of it, it scared her a little.

Stopping in front of the door, she shook her head and tried to will those thoughts away. That wasn’t why she was here. No reason to get into a bad mood for an innocuous action like giving one of her boyfriends his schoolwork.

Besides, she’d been looking forward to spending time with either of them- with all the changes in schedule happening at school and the police enforcing a new curfew (oh, boy, did her and the ghouls _despise _it), Frankie had little time to see Jackson or Holt save for a few minutes between classes or talking to them over the phone.

She rang the doorbell and stepped back.

To her surprise, however, the front door was pulled open to reveal Heath, who looked a little worse for wear as he pushed the screen door open.

“Oh, hey Frankie,” he said without his usual cheery tone, “What’s up?”

Frankie observed him. His eyes were dulled and were slightly red as if he’d been crying, and there were dark circles under his lids. 

“Oh, um, Jackson asked me to drop his homework off,” she explained, holding up the papers in her hands, “So I thought I’d do that before I went home.”

Heath nodded in understanding. “Okay. He’s actually not here right now; him and Uncle Kenneth- well, right now, he’s Uncle Ashtaroth- had to run to the pharmacy. But you’re welcome to come in and wait, if you want? They shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“Um…sure,” Frankie replied, glancing at her watch; Alivia was hanging out with her friends and her parents were off at work, so she’d still have another hour or so to herself.

Heath held the door open for her as she walked in. She followed him through the front entryway past the kitchen, where she could see Jackson’s mom paying bills at the table.

“Hi, Mrs. Jekyll,” she said as they walked by.

Sydney looked up, a smile immediately coming onto her lips as her eyes landed on the green girl. “Frankie! Hi! I didn’t realize you were coming by!”

“She’s dropping off some stuff for Jackson,” Heath explained, “I told her she could stay if she wanted to see him when he got back.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Frankie added in.

Sydney waved her off, “Oh, honey, you know you’re always welcome here! Have a drink, get comfortable, do whatever you like!”

Heath looked back at her and gestured to the fridge. “You want anything?”

“No thanks,” Frankie replied.

They started up the stairs and headed for Jackson’s room. As they walked down the hallway, Heath made a remark over his shoulder.

“Kinda surprised to see you’re here all alone,” he said, “I swear, my folks have me under a microscope nowadays.”

Frankie gave a half-hearted smile. “Mine did, too, but I think they quickly realized just how suffocating it was making me feel.”

She completely understood why they felt that way, but still, there was only so many texts that came every five minutes and constant monitoring of where she was going and where she was going to be at this time or that time before she felt ready to explode. Luckily, her mom seemed to start coming to her senses.

“_I’m scared just like you are, Viktor, but we can’t just put every daily routine on hold until it stops,” _Viveka had said, “_What are we going to do, lock them up in the house and have them survive on rations? Unlife goes on, and all we can do is keep our guard up for now.” _

Frankie was honestly glad, because one more day stuck in the house from morning to night and she thought she might just short circuit from frustration.

Heath gave a small “hmph” of amusement. “Lucky you,” he said, “My parents are totally manic over the whole thing. That’s why I’m here; with my sister studying abroad, it’s been only me at home. After Dougey, the idea freaks them out too much.”

He scoffed, “Feel like I can’t even take a piss now without them wanting to track my location.”

His expression quickly turned melancholic, though, and he stared out the window as he shrugged.

“I don’t mind, though,” he said, “It’s better than being all alone. At least it’s not deathly silent, so that all I can focus on is Abbey…”

He trailed off. He swallowed hard, like he had a lump in his throat.

Frankie pursed her lips together. The same feeling came to her as she looked down at the science papers in her lap; her vision blurred as tears came to her eyes. The heaviness of the mention of their beloved yeti hung between the two of them like a blanket of lead.

“I just…I feel like I see her everywhere,” Heath commented, his voice thick with emotion, “It’s like every little thing comes back to something about her: something she liked to eat, something we did on a date, her favorite color.

“And then, when that happens, all I can think about is how she’s _somewhere_\- her, Clawd, Manny, Gil…they’re all somewhere, with God knows who doing God knows what to them, and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do to help them,” he finished, his tone laced with defeat.

He slumped back in the chair. His jaw tightened and he suddenly looked like he was on the verge of tears. His hands clenched into fists on his lap.

Frankie watched him silently, the feeling of helplessness resonating just as strongly within her. She bit her lip to keep from bawling and scooted over from where she sat on Jackson’s bed.

Silently, she reached out her hand to Heath. He took it and held it tightly like it was life or death.

For a moment, they sat there, simply taking solace in each other’s company. Then, Heath spoke up again.

“Holt’s also been getting really weird lately,” he said, “I mean, him and Jackson have been doing their best to cheer me up and I’m grateful for that, but I’m starting to get worried about him. He’s been really off…”

That got Frankie’s attention. She raised her head, watching him as he knit his brows together in thought.

“Like, how?” she asked curiously.

Heath frowned, “He’s been saying all these little things under his breath; like, whenever I talk about what Jackson did for the day, he gets this look on his face and makes these little comments about the humans. But he won’t elaborate on it whenever I get on him for it.

“Like the other day,” he explained, “Aunt Sydney said something about how Jackson had hung out at Clair’s house the other day, and she mentioned how Lilith was there, and Holt says something along the lines of how she should tell Jackson to be more careful, because next time he may end up looking like Headmistress Bloodgood or some confusing crap like that.”

_Oh no, _Frankie thought with dread.

Heath shook his head, still confused over the comment. “I don’t know. He’s just been really snotty lately whenever it comes to the normie side now. I don’t get it.”

“He thinks Lilith has something to do with the disappearances,” Frankie answered, “He thinks she’s conspiring with her uncle as revenge for us stoning him sophomore year and to continue on his whole ‘turn the monsters against each other and then kill them’ plan. He thinks the sheriff and the normie police are in on it too.”

That earned her a look of surprise from Heath. He asked, “He told you that?”

Frankie nodded. She frowned as she thought back to the scene in the car when they got pulled over and looked down at her lap, fiddling with her bracelet.

“That day he was giving Deuce and me a ride home? We had to go through the human side of town because of construction, and ended up getting pulled over by the sheriff,” she explained, “The sheriff was being polite, but Holt totally blew up at him and made all these nasty comments. When I confronted him about it, that’s what he told me.”

Heath grimaced, “Jesus. That doesn’t sound like Holt at all.”

Frankie sighed, “I know. That’s what worries me. I’ve never seen him so angry like he was before all of this. I’m scared he’s going to act on his suspicions.”

Though, she couldn’t say for sure if that fear came from the thought of Holt being hurt, or him potentially hurting others.

It must’ve been obvious on her face, though, because Heath looked at her for a moment and replied, “What, you think he’s going to do something to Lilith? He isn’t like that, Frankie.”

“I know, but with the way he’s been acting, I’m worried he’s going to go off on one of his impulse binges and make a bad decision,” she admitted.

“He’s not,” Heath assured her, “Trust me, Frank, I know my cousin’s reckless and can be more airheaded than a cloud nymph, but he’s not malicious. All of this is probably just him venting out his frustrations-“

“Who’s venting?” Jackson asked as he suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Frankie and Heath froze, the brunette’s presence unexpected. They gave each other a spooked glance, both cautious about how much he had overheard. Jackson seemed none the wiser as he smiled at his cousin and ghoulfriend and walked into the room, depositing his messenger bag next to his desk before he walked to the bed.

“Is that my homework?” he asked as he leaned over and gave Frankie a kiss on the cheek.

“Um, yeah,” Frankie replied, holding it up for him. Jackson grinned at her and took it, flipping through the pages to get a glimpse at the problems.

“Great, thanks!” he exclaimed, “I knew I could count on you. Sorry I’m a bit late, the line was taking forever to move.”

“It’s no big deal,” Frankie mumbled. She looked at Heath; he sat in the desk chair like he was made of stone.

Jackson walked over to his closet and peeled off his coat. He looked between the two of them, this time noting their stiff postures.

“Something wrong?” he asked, hanging his coat up, “You two look like you’ve seen a basilisk.”

Frankie shook her head, “N-No, not really. We’ve just been…talking.”

“I can see that,” Jackson said jokingly, “About what? Or who, I should say, since it sounds like someone is the main topic, from what I’ve heard.”

From the corner of her eye, Frankie could see Heath shake his head at her. She opted to ignore it- in her mind, Jackson had a right to know, if he hadn’t already.

After all, considering him and Holt shared a body, he probably wanted to know what his “twin” was planning on doing with it, if he did decide to carry out any actions in response to any theories he had about the disappearances and who he thought were responsible for them.

“Well, um, it’s…it’s about Holt,” she admitted, “Has he seemed…off to you, by any chance?”

Jackson turned to face her, a confused look on his face.

“What…do you mean?” he asked.

He turned to Heath; his brow knit as he noticed how the fire elemental refused to look in his direction. He turned to Frankie. She sighed and laced her fingers together, deciding to just come out with it all. 

“When we were waiting for you, Heath and I were talking. About….A-About Abbey and the others…” she paused for a moment to fight against the unexpected urge to cry, “And Heath mentioned said how Holt’s been acting a bit strange.”

Jackson nodded in understanding. He slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the bed beside her.

“Go on,” he said.

Before Frankie could continue, she was interrupted by a loud, tired sigh from Heath.

“There’s something you need to know, dude,” he said.

They told him about the incident in the car and the few things Heath had overheard. Jackson sat back on his bed, his mouth falling open in shock.

“I…I had no idea he was saying those things,” he said slowly, after taking a minute to process it all, “He’s never left me a message implying any of that.”

He ran a hand through his hair and stared at his sneakers. Frankie could see him clench his jaw as he continued to ponder the thought.

“Like I told Frankie, it’s all talk,” Heath said, “Yeah, it’s strange how he’s acting, but Holt wouldn’t go as far as to actually go after someone based on no evidence. He’s all bark and no bite.”

“Yeah…” Jackson replied, distracted. He lifted his gaze and stared into space. “Or maybe…”

Frankie and Heath looked at him, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t. Instead, he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Nevermind,” he dismissed, “Do you want to stay for dinner, Frankie? Mom’s making lasagna.”

Frankie glanced at her watch again. “Actually, I should get going. I need to make sure I take the meat out before my mom gets home.”

“Okay,” Jackson replied, “Here, I’ll walk you home.”

He grabbed his hoodie from the back of the chair Heath was sitting in as Frankie gathered up the rest of her things. She shouldered her purse and turned to Heath.

“It-It was nice talking with you, Heath,” she said. Internally, she immediately cringed as she realized the awkward word choice.

_Oh, yeah, talking about missing people and how my boyfriend is paranoid and growing more xenophobic towards humans is really “nice”, _she thought.

Heath gave her a half-hearted smile and a small wave. “You, too. See you at school tomorrow.”

Jackson and her were silent as they made their way back downstairs and to the front door, save for both of them giving Sydney a small goodbye. It was chilly outside as they walked; Frankie shivered and tugged at her scarf to cover up the area of her shirt that was exposed by her jacket.

She looked beside her. Jackson kept his gaze forward; he looked deep in thought.

“Jackson?” Frankie said, “Are you okay?”

The brunette replied, “Yeah. Just…thinking. About what you said.”

Frankie felt a twinge of guilt at the troubled look in his eye. “I didn’t mean to suggest anything or make it seem like Holt’s gone completely off the deep end,” she said, “I was just worried. He’s just been so _angry.” _

“It’s fine, Frankie. I get it,” Jackson gave her a reassuring smile, “I’m glad you told me. It’s just…it got me wondering…”

He stopped himself and frowned. Frankie tilted her head at him, curious.

“Wondering about what?” she asked.

Jackson shook his head, “Forget about it. Just a random thought I had.”

From the look on his face, something told Frankie that it was anything but that, but she didn’t press him. They lapsed into silence again as they made their way through the neighborhood.

Once they were on her porch step, Jackson turned to face her.

“You don’t have to keep worrying about Holt, I’ll talk to him,” he said, “I’m sure I can get through to his thick head that he’s just worked up over everything. You’ll see. He’ll be okay.”

Frankie nodded, though she couldn’t find much assurance from the statement. The awkward way Jackson and Holt had to communicate with each other notwithstanding, something told her that Holt wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to try and be swayed by his normie counterpart about his suspicions Lilith. Especially when the latter was the most eager to try and befriend the blonde in the first place; no doubt he’d argue Jackson was just using his bias and his desperation to have human friends to deter him.

It was a conversation Frankie definitely want to be present for, but subconsciously knew that she wouldn’t hear the end of it from either of them no matter how the outcome turned out.

“He will,” Jackson repeated, as if seeing her doubt, “Holt can get irrational, but he wouldn’t….he wouldn’t anyone.”

His voice had suddenly got very small, like he couldn’t quite believe his own words. Frankie looked up at him, stunned at the change in tone. Jackson avoided her eyes, instead choosing to direct his gaze to the floor.

What was he thinking? What could have come to his mind that he sounded so unsure after sounding so confident only a few seconds ago?

Jackson sighed heavily. He reached forward and took hold of both her hands. Frankie squeezed as he laced their fingers together and held them up between them.

“Everything’s gotten so crazy,” he lamented, “I feel like I can’t relax anymore. You’re honestly the one thing keeping me grounded.”

Frankie gave him a small smile. Jackson tugged her forward and pulled her into a tight embrace, squeezing her tightly. She buried her nose into the shoulder of his jacket, cooing at the display of affection.

They pulled apart. Jackson leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“Be safe,” he said as he pulled away from her, “I love you.”

Frankie reached up and cupped his cheek, rubbing it with her thumb as she gazed up at him softly. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. Jackson gave a small moan of pleasure and returned it. They stayed like that for a few minutes, before they finally separated.

“I love you, too,” Frankie replied, looking deep into those dark blue eyes she’d come to love with all her heart.

Jackson stood on the porch holding her hand for a few more minutes, before he finally told her goodbye and left.

As she grasped the door handle, Frankie turned to watch him make his way down the sidewalk, before he disappeared as the tall bushes on the side of the house blocked her view. She stood there for a few more minutes, thinking about what he had said.

He made it sound so easy. Like a simple talk, via their system of diary messages and texts and sticky notes wasn’t going to be enough to convince _Holt Hyde _of all people that he was being unreasonable.

“I can only hope so,” Frankie said to herself.

She headed inside and headed to the kitchen, where she pulled the packet of frozen turkey out of the freezer and filled up the sink with cold water for it to defrost in.

Meanwhile, she tried to ignore the churning in her stomach that seemed to tell her that she had zero clue just to how bad it could really be.

* * *

Lagoona stared at the figure fearfully, her eyes following his every move, like if she even just blinked, he’d disappear right in front of her. Her pupils had shrunk to the size of mere pinpricks, while her whites had grown as wide as dollar coins, making the green of her irises seem extra vibrant.

She shivered in the small pathetic little kiddie pool, though she knew it had nothing to do with the cold temperature of the water. Her arms were restrained above her, a pair of handcuffs locking them around one of the beams of the storage shelf behind her, of which had numerous boxes and heavy metal tools stacked on it. She’d been stripped down to her underwear and camisole, and the fabric became soaked from the water as it sloshed from her leg movements.

Across from her, the masked man paid her no mind as he crouched down besides a few boxes, sorting through their contents and pulling out various items. Among them, Lagoona could see him pull out several brown bottles filled with some clear liquid and a plastic box filled with fishhooks.

She didn’t know how long she’d been here or where she was. The last thing she could remember was trying to run away from the strange masked man after he’d abducted Gil, only for the bird-faced fiend to fly towards her with surprising swiftness and snatch her up like a hawk to an innocent rabbit. He hit her with something hard, either his fist or a hammer or something, and then, she woke up here.

The memory made her skin prickle. It was an ungodly sight- him floating up and bolting towards her, his black cloak flapping in the air like a pair of large black wings, his white mask gleaming from the streetlight, his large hands reaching out towards her from beneath his cap like a pair of hands popping out from a dark void; it was everything that nightmares were made of.

Her vision swam with tears. She didn’t realize she was whimpering until the masked man suddenly paused and looked over her shoulder at her. Lagoona froze. She quieted instantly.

She stiffened as the masked man stood up and put the rest of the items from the box on the shelf in front of him, before he turned to face her.

“I’ve never gotten to see an aquatic cryptid up close before,” he commented; Lagoona gripped the chain of her handcuffs as he started towards her, “You look much more human than I expected. Is it supposed to be part of your allure? Like a siren trying to lure innocent men to their doom? Some chance occurrence of convergent evolution?

“Or,” he suggested as he leaned in, “Were you too, created from one pitiful man’s desire to be his personal god? To try and test the boundaries of what makes a man and what makes an animal?”

Lagoona didn’t acknowledge his questions. She looked away from him and sniveled pitifully, unable to face that malicious beak or those soulless glass eyes that masked whatever truly evil gaze lurked behind them.

“W-W-Where’s Gil?” she asked shakily.

“How sweet. You’re obviously fearing for your unlife, and yet your first question is about your precious fish boy,” the masked man said jeeringly, “That’s a first. The others just immediately began begging or swearing at me.”

Disgust and trepidation filled Lagoona as she felt him brush some of her hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear. The way his fingertips stroked her cheeks made her tremble even worse.

“P-P-Please, w-whatever you have planned, y-y-you don’t have to do this,” she stammered, “W-W-Whatever you want, whatever y-you’re after, you don’t have to keep doing this-“

“You have a heavy accent,” the masked man observed, “You’re not native to this country, are you?”

He stood up and walked away from her. Lagoona turned her head, watching him as he made his way to the wall at the far end of the room.

It was then she noticed there was an apparatus set up on the floor. It was a portable stove- the kind you used when you went camping- with a small metal pot on top of it. Lagoona could see it was turned on, a little blue flame heating up whatever contents were inside the pot. Faintly, she thought she could hear something boiling.

The masked man bent down and adjusted the heat knob. “You know what? Don’t answer that, it’s not important,” he said, “What is important is our little experiment that you’re going to be a part of.”

“E-E-Experiment?” Lagoona stuttered.

The masked man turned off the stove and grabbed the pot by its handle. He stood up and turned back to her, walking with the pot held out in front of him. She could see wisps of steam rising up from over its edge.

“I will admit, I’m not very versed in the nature of fish or amphibians,” the masked man said as he stood above her, “I grew up specifically around other mammal monsters. I’ve tried studying you all, but there’s so many damn many of you for just one sub species I feel like I’d be holding you to a standard that may not be applicable to you.”

He raised a hand and wagged a finger at her.

“No,” he said, “No, you’re going to be a different kind of test for me.”

He stopped right beside the kiddie pool. Lagoona flinched away from him and hid her face away in her shoulder, whimpering.

“Every year, the oceans are getting warmer and warmer,” the masked man narrated, “Pollution is putting out greenhouse gases by the millions, and as those gases trap all that excess heat in the atmosphere, it gets absorbed right back into the ocean, where it heats up and expands. Just like the water in this pot.”

He gestured to the metal object. He turned back to Lagoona. She stared at him warily, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and the pot.

He lifted his left foot and placed it on the edge of the kiddie pool. The old blue plastic turned white and easily bent under his weight as he allowed some of the water to drain out onto the floor, leaving only an inch or so left that covered only the bottom of Lagoona’s legs instead of the waste deep level she was originally in.

“That got me to wondering: What will you all do when it finally gets too hot? When everything around you feels like you’re swimming in the middle of a hot spring? How much heat can you take?” he asked.

He held the pot out so it was hovering right over Lagoona. The sea monster’s face drained completely of color as she stared up at the pot like it was some monstrosity crawling out of the void.

“You’ll need to adapt sooner or later,” the masked man muttered, “Before you’re all wiped out.”

He turned the pot sideways, allowing the boiling water in it to trickle out and splash all over Lagoona’s legs.

Lagoona arched her back and screamed at the contact. She immediately bent her knees and pulled her legs away from him, pressing them against her chest. It was of little help, though, as the masked man just turned towards her and continued pouring the water of her.

“_STOP!” _she begged, “_PLEASE, STOP! PLEASE IT HURTS! AAAAAGH!” _

Every one of her other senses became numb and buried underneath the pain that suddenly imploded over the surface of her body. Her legs began to tremble as her skin instantly began to blister and peel from the temperature of the water.

The masked man just watched her scream and thrash as he poured the rest of the water over her. Lagoona kicked and slid about in the tub as she tried to escape the agonizing burning sensation that had erupted over the lower of half of her body. Her hands grasped at the beam of the shelf tightly; tears poured down her cheeks and dripped off her chin, mixing with snot that dribbled from her nose. The little water that was in the pool 

“STOP IT! Please, stop!” she squealed, before breaking off into sobs.

As the pot finally emptied, the masked man pulled his arm back and let it hang at his side.

He scoffed, “You move exactly like a fish out of water.”

He trailed his eyes back up to her face, eyeing the way she was panting and gritting her teeth against the pain. No doubt it must’ve hurt- probably felt more like getting doused with gasoline and set on fire than getting splashed with water. 

“That water was two hundred- and twelve-degrees Fahrenheit,” he told her, “The boiling point. You think that hurts? That’s what your descendants are going to have to deal with in the next few million years if people don’t make a change.

“Scratch that, that’s not even the worst of what they’re going to have to deal with. After all, that was _pure _water I just gave you,” he said.

Lagoona’s eyes shot open. She turned towards him sharply, horror painting her features as she seemed to understand what he meant. The masked man nodded.

“Yes,” he said, “After all, it wouldn’t be very accurate if we didn’t include variables that were more reflective of your natural environment, now would it?”

He shook his head, “That can wait until later, though. With that little pot, it would take all night to get it boiling again and again. Right now, I want to try something else.”

He stood up and made his way to the corner of the room. He bent down and gathered up something that was hidden from Lagoona’s sight; she craned her neck, her heart pounding in her chest at whatever he was grabbing. The masked man grunted and heaved something up to hold against his chest.

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she saw that it was a steel-jawed, leg-hold bear trap. 

“N-No, no,” she weakly protested, trying to press herself up against the pool as he came towards her, holding the trap in front of him.

“That’s no way to behave,” the masked man replied, “Especially for someone who lives in such a deep, dark environment like the ocean. What if some predator sees you being so fragile? You’d be eaten alive within seconds.”

He placed the beartrap on the ground and wrenched the jaws apart. As he set it up, he turned and leaned in. Lagoona recoiled from him. The edge of the mask’s beak poked her in the cheek.

“After all,” he said in a low voice, “You never know when some great big predator, like a shark or a killer whale is going to sneak up from the deep, dark depths of the ocean floor…and just…”

Without any warning, he gripped the spring rivet of the bear trap and shoved it towards her.

The pan slammed against her side, triggering the mechanism for the jaws to spring from their locked position and slam shut right against Lagoona’s ribcage.

The blonde-haired monster jerked and gave out an ear-shattering scream at the immediate anguish that came from the impact. The serrated teeth of the trap had been sharpened, allowing their knife-like points to easily puncture her delicate skin, while the force shattered several of her ribs instantly.

Blood poured from the large punctures made from the trap and into the water, quickly staining it a sickeningly bright shade of emerald. The masked man tilted his head at the sight.

“Huh, green blood,” he commented, “That’s a first.”

“_AAAAARGH!” _Lagoona howled, “_PLEASE! GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!” _

“Is that how you react to getting eaten alive? What if this was the real thing?” the masked man questioned her in disgust, “And this is who sailors and fishermen feared for centuries?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, since you asked…”

Lagoona let out a sharp cry as he raised his foot and slammed it into her stomach. It increased in pitch as he leaned over to grasp the jaws of the bear trap, which made his foot press further into her gut. Combined with the pain of her broken bones and the lacerations, it felt like she was being crushed to death.

After some struggle with forcing the jaws apart- in which he succeeded in further aggravating Lagoona’s injuries- the masked man grunted and, with a final thrust on her belly that made her shriek through gritted teeth, he managed to pull the bear trap out from under her.

In its wake, a half moon of several dozen holes pierced the sea monster’s pale blue skin, ripping the scales and pooling with absinthe green blood.

“Gah!” Lagoona exclaimed as the pressure on her side was finally removed. She gasped for air, her eyes darting down to observe, in disbelief, the gore that was exposed from the holes made in her tank top.

“There. Your own personal shark bite,” she heard the masked man comment in amusement, “Now you know to be extra vigilant when you’re swimming if you don’t want it to happen again.

Lagoona wept, “W-W-Why? Why are you d-doing this?”

“Because I want to. Because it’s fun,” the masked man replied, “Because it disgusts me to see just how _pathetic _you creatures are, sinking so low to mimic those human meat-bags.”

He grabbed her chin roughly and twisted her face from side to side. Lagoona clenched her eyes shut sniveled at his harsh grip.

“It’s atrocious,” the masked man hissed, “You walk and talk like them. You stupefy yourselves and numb yourselves to your basic instincts, for what? Because you want to fit in? Be ‘one of the gals?’ You are not. Stop deluding yourselves into believing otherwise, it’s pathetic.”

He shoved her back and turned away. Lagoona huddled in on herself; she grimaced deeply from the sting in her side as her intercostal muscles pulled and aggravated the bleeding holes.

The masked man looked over his shoulder at the sound of her sniffles and took in the sight of her crumbled figure.

“Stop crying,” he ordered, “I could’ve done worse. You’ve had it easy compared to what your friends have had to deal with.”

At the mention of the others, Lagoona lifted her head.

“Where are they?” she questioned, “W-What have you done to them? What do you want?!”

“You’ll see,” the masked man said, rummaging through a box.

“For now, though, I think you should be more concerned with yourself,” he said, pulling something out, “This next test is, admittedly, going to hurt…_quite _a bit.”

He held up the object for her to see. He smiled evilly behind his mask as he watched Lagoona glance up at the glass jar in his hands in confusion, before her face suddenly blanked in terror as she saw its contents. Inside the container were a few box jellyfish.

“You seem to recognize these fellows,” he said with mirth, “Good. That means I can skip over all the little parts.”

He unscrewed the top of the jar and placed it on the shelf beside him. Lagoona looked up at her restraints and desperately began to pull at them, before she looked back at him with renewed fright.

“No, no, p-please,” she begged as he started coming towards her, the jar raised in his hands.

Her heart raced with adrenaline. It temporarily numbed the anguish in her bleeding side as she began to kick at the kiddie pool manically, panic causing her to twist sideways wildly.

Even with his face covered, something in her could sense the cruel pleasure in his face.

“No, No, no more!” she pleaded, “PLEASE, I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, JUST STOP! _PLEASE, NO, NO NO!”_

* * *

These fish teens were turning out to be a lot more interesting than he initially believed.

The masked man made his way to the next room he had in mind. He floated there, his cloak fluttering under him and hiding his boots as he pushed forth, his figure making a little circle on the ground like he was an airplane soaring up above.

He had just finished up his first session with the sea monster, and now was on his way to have some fun with that freshwater boyfriend of hers.

She’d certainly been a delight. The way she flopped about like a beached mermaid as he draped the jellyfish on her neck and foot, the absolutely beautiful scream she let out as he poured various acids over her arm, the way her blood (he still couldn’t get over the green!) poured down her cheeks and onto her collarbone and gushed with every strangled cry she let out as he pierced her lips and mouth with fish hooks- it was heavenly.

However, he didn’t want to wear her down too quickly- he’d learned that lesson with the cat and the harpy; if you did too much at once too quickly, it wouldn’t be long until they just slumped over and cried or moaned as they became slightly desensitized to the pain, and then they just got boring. So after a few hours or so, he finally allowed her to rest, leaving her to writhe and cry in her literal pool of blood for the night.

Hopefully, the boy would be just as exciting. He had overheard that river monsters tended to be candy-asses, though, so he tried not to set his expectations too high.

He phased through the walls to the room that said monster had been left in. The fin-headed teen remained in the same position that the masked man had left him when he brought him and the girl here the night prior.

Gil was still in a small metal tub, his hands raised up over his arms and handcuffed, the chain of which the masked man had linked to a longer chain, which he wound around and locked to the pole he’d installed in the wall. Just like his ghoulfriend, the river monster had been stripped down to his undershorts. He’d been placed in a lying position so that he was submerged, the water coming upt o just the tip of his nose. His head was turned sideways so that his cheek pressed against his bicep, a shallow gash with oozing green blood on his left temple. 

The masked man reached into the pouch at his belt and pulled out a glass bottle. It was the same one he’d had on his person when he abducted the yeti girl. He observed the sand in it; its contents were getting low.

“Not tonight,” he muttered to himself, putting it away. He needed to make his supply last for as long as he could.

No skin of his nose, though. More fun for him tonight.

He floated across the room so that he was standing directly over Gil’s body. He stared down at the unconscious teen, searching for any sign of stirring.

When it was clear that Gil was still knocked out, the masked man reached for the bucket he’d placed beside the tub. It was filled with soapy water.

Grabbing both sides, he held it up to his chest, struggling to keep the water from sloshing out as he moved so that the bucket was hovering over Gil.

Then, once he had it at the position he wanted, he promptly turned the bucket upside down and dumped it into the tub, right where Gil’s head was submerged.

He let the bucket swing at his side as he peered down into the tub. The gills on the sides of the scaly teen’s neck fluttered in and out as he took in the soapy water, before Gil’s face suddenly screwed up in an expression of displeasure. It tightened, before his eyes shot open and he coughed and sputtered under the water, suds dispelling from his nose and mouth.

As he struggled to get the last of the tainted water out of his system, Gil glanced up at the masked man. His eyes, stinging from the soap, bulged from horror as he realized where he was. The chain rattled against the pole as he tugged at his handcuffs fruitlessly.

The masked man watched him struggle for a few minutes, before he silently picked up the bucket again and dunked it under the water, scooping out the soap. Gil shrunk away whenever he came near, jerking whenever the bucket so much as brushed his head.

It was a bit amusing to watch the aquatic boy as he tried to obviously tried to hold his breath- or whatever was the equivalent for people who breathed underwater- as the masked man got rid of the rest of the bubbles and soap. He dumped it all into a plastic container at the corner of the tub.

He reached down and grabbed the hose that lay on the floor, whose line ran under the entrance to the room and extended for a few yards to the nearest available spout. He turned it on and allowed water to flow out of into the tub, refilling it to almost overflowing.

Gil immediately gasped as fresh, clean water surrounded his gills and he found himself able to breathe again. His chest rose and fell rapidly in desperation to get oxygen back into his system and, with a bit of a struggle, he managed to pull himself in a slight sitting position so that his head was above the water.

“T-T-Thank you,” he panted, “Thank you, thank you.”

“It took me forever to set up this water line,” the masked man said, gesturing to the hose, “Probably gonna cost me a fortune on the water bill. Be grateful.”

Now, as he finally to get some oxygen in his body once again, Gil slowly looked up at him warily.

“What…where am I?” he asked, pink eyes frantically darting around the concrete room.

“Nowhere that anyone can find you,” the masked man taunted.

He could see Gil’s Adam’s apple bob hard in his throat as he swallowed, before he began to tremble.

“W-Where’s Lagoona?” he asked; his lip quivered like he was trying not to cry, “…P-Please, i-i-if you have her right now, let her go. Y-You can do whatever you want to me, just please, d-don’t hurt her-“

“Amazing. Your ghoulfriend asked about you too,” the masked man said.

He put his hands together and placed them against his cheek like he was admiring the teenager. “Here you are, all alone, your life in my very hands, but you only care about the fate of the other. That there, that must be true love.”

He snorted, “It’s almost revolting. Making yourselves vulnerable for such silly human concepts like ‘love.’”

Gil’s brows suddenly furrowed. Even though he was chained up and the masked man towered over him, he glared at the black-clad figure.

He hissed at him, “I-If you’ve done anything to her-“

“You’ll what, boy? Spit water at me?” the masked man questioned, bending down to stare him down, “You can’t do anything. You can’t even _breathe _on land. You’re no stronger than seaweed drying out on the walks.”

He leaned forward to stare into Gil’s eyes. Gil tensed, trying not to cower at the dark, soulless eye holes.

“Would you like to know what I did to your little catch of the day?” the masked man growled, “How I made her beg and scream like her life depended on it?”

Gil stared at him. His breathing became shallow as he tried not to let the knowledge that the bastard had been near Lagoona get to him.

“It was wonderful,” the masked man said, “Maybe I’ll bring you to her next time so you can hear it for yourself. You can be together, just like that wolf and his mate, or the cute little cyclops and her personal cow I snatched up.”

_Manny and Iris, _Gil thought, bristling.

The masked man smirked and lightly slapped his cheek. Gil jumped at the contact.

“All that soap was just the beginning,” he commented, “You’re going to be my next experiment. We’ll be putting those fancy gills of yours to the test.”

He stood up and leaned over to the shelf nearby. Gil craned his neck to see what he had grabbed. Something dropped into the pit of his stomach when he saw it was a gallon of motor oil.

“Your ghoulfriend’s home isn’t the only at risk with all this pollution and global warming,” the masked man said, unscrewing the cap, “Local ecosystems are at risk as well. All the trash and fertilizer run-off and overhunting from fishermen surely are going to wipe your beautiful rivers and lakes out in no time.”

“N-No,” Gil protested as he started towards him, “S-S-Stay away…”

“I wonder how that must feel, for all that marine life that died in all those oil spills or algae blooms,” the masked man narrated, “To choke on your own breath. To be surrounded by your own life source and yet not be able to take it in because it’s become pure poison.”

He raised the motor oil over the tub. Gil stared back and forth between it and him; it was almost sad, seeing how easily his poker face was cracking.

The masked man gestured to the motor oil like he was making a toast.

“Shall we?” he asked.

The river monster hadn’t let him down.

He probably screamed even louder than his ocean girl.

An hour or so later, the masked man stood back, letting the plastic container that was formerly filled with phosphorus fall out of his hands onto the floor. He looked down and grasped the front of his cloak, twisting it to try and ring the water out that had splashed onto him.

Little droplets splattered onto the floor at his feet as he managed to squeeze them out of the fabric. Under him, a good half of the floor was soaked in water. He glanced up in front of him to look at Gil.

The light blue teen sniveled and cowered in the metal tub, occasionally pausing to hack and spit up dirty water over the side. The masked man had refilled the tub once again, but he still had some filth left in his gills and stomach from when he’d accidentally swallowed some of it.

His throat and stomach must’ve been burning something mighty, the masked man pondered. Gil had tried to keep from inhaling for as long as he could as the masked man dunked him under water that he’d tainted with a variety of things- oil, liquid pesticide, various organic compounds- however, it had quickly become apparent the young man wasn’t used to holding his breath.

It was a glorious sight to behold.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” the masked man suggested with faux-warmth, “A good night’s rest might help you feel better in the morning.”

From where he lay restrained, Gil shot him a dirty look. It failed to hold much venom, though, with his eyes red-rimmed from irritation and crying and his skin flaking from burns.

He immediately looked away when the masked man lowered his head. The masked man just shrugged.

“I’ll be back later,” he said, “Don’t mess up the room too badly while I’m gone.”

“Y-Y-Y-You’re a f-f-fucking degenerate…” Gil muttered weakly.

“I know,” the masked man said.

He turned away from him and phased out of the room, leaving Gil alone in the room.

The moon was high in the sky as the masked man appeared outside once more. His beak looked like a long white spear emerging from a dark void as it stood out against the dark of his costume, lily white in the night.

There was one more place he wanted to visit before he called it a night. He could feel himself grinning as he made his way to the room in question, already wetting his canines in anticipation for what he had in mind to do.

This time, though, he didn’t phase through the walls like he had with Gil and Lagoona. Instead, while standing outside the entrance, he pulled out a second glass bottle, similar in shape to the one he had examined earlier. Instead of black sand, however, this one’s contents were a muted brown.

Pulling the cork stopper out, the masked man flicked his wrist and splashed some of the sand on him. A plume of pink erupted out over him.

When it dissipated, the light blue glow that had surrounded him was gone, and he was no longer floating. The masked man put the bottle back into his pouch, satisfied with this new form.

He wanted to be solid. He wanted _her _to be able to feel every bit of him.

Like the other rooms where he kept the rest of his prisoners, this one had steel walls and a concrete floor, with a few items strewn about either on the floor or in boxes that had been stacked up.

A bedframe had been pushed up against one corner of the room. It was obviously hold, with the bars showing obvious rust and its mattress stained beyond all saving and ripped in various places to expose the foam underneath. Toralei lay on top of it, her arms and legs tied to either end of the frame so that she was stuck in a spread-eagled position. She was also naked, allowing every inch of her fur-covered body to be seen.

The masked man growled in satisfaction as he approached the werecat. His eyes trailed along her luscious form hungrily, taking in every inch of her naked skin and her soft curves.

Toralei had her head turned to the side, staring emptily at the wall next to her, her eyes dull. She had no reaction as the masked man touched her collarbone and started running his hand down her chest. The smell of his arousal was strong, but Toralei gave no indication of sensing it.

She was looking better than the rest of the hostages at this point, that was for sure. He had seen to it to bathe her and feed her regularly. It looked wrong, the way her striped-orange fur gleamed and smoothed out against the filth in the rest of the room.

The masked man grinned as he felt her up. He had already taken her plenty of times since her abduction, but he’d yet to tire of her body and the sensations it gave him.

His hand trailed down and stopped at her abdomen. Dozens of deep lacerations had been cut into Toralei’s stomach and inner thighs, the skin around them red and welting and crusted with dried blood.

The masked man examined the cuts, tracing over them with a fingertip. He lightly pressed against one; Toralei grimaced and groaned from the sting, finally giving him a reaction. The masked man smiled cruelly.

“Hello, lovely, I hope you didn’t miss me too much,” he cooed as he stroked a lock of her hair, “I know how much you love our little alone time.”

Toralei didn’t respond. She kept her gaze on the wall, the only movement the slow rise and fall of her chest.

The masked man pulled out a small dagger and positioned it over a part of her belly that hadn't been cut into, an area near her right hip.

He was rewarded with a sharp hiss as he pressed the edge of the knife against her stomach and yanked his arm back, slashing deeply into the flesh. The wound immediately began to pool with blood and poured down Toralei's side; the fur there darkened into a burnt orange hue as it became wet.

Toralei winced in pain, but didn't move her head. Her gaze remained on the same spot she'd been looking at for hours. 

Her stony posture wavered not once as the masked man climbed on top of her, his weight making the bed frame rattle and squeak with the threat of buckling under his added weight. There was a clinking sound as he reached under his cloak and undid his belt, before he pushed his pants down.

The masked man grasped her hips and entered her roughly, moaning at the feeling. He put his hands on either side of her shoulders and started to move, rocking her along the mattress.

His cloak rubbed against her skin roughly and his hands were not the least bit gentle as they roughly fondled her body. Toralei, however, remained staring at the wall, never adjusting or changing her position.

She remained silent through the act, while on the inside, she was praying.

Praying for the day to come that he would finally be done with her and just kill her already.


	11. Chapter 10: Cat and Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter contains depictions of torture, violence, and non-consensual touching.

This was no good, the masked man thought.

He held up the wooden stake to the light, frowning in dismay as he examined its blackened edges. He had held a blowtorch to it in order to have it slightly hot, but it seemed he underestimated how quickly the wood burned and ended up charring the pointed end. It would probably still do a good job, but the point was now blunted and, as he gave it a closer look, he realized it wasn’t as symmetrical as he hoped.

Shrugging, the masked man tossed the ruined stake on the floor and allowed it to roll into a corner out of sight. Oh well, change of plans. It was no big deal. He had plenty of other things at his disposal.

“It seems you won’t be undergoing Polyphemus’s fate after all,” he uttered, turning around to face the other two parties in the room.

Manny and Iris, both covered in grisly injuries and filth, shied away from him, both quivering violently under his masked gaze. Manny had been forced into a makeshift pillory that had been welded to the floor, with his hands kept restrained on either side of his head and his body forced into an uncomfortable bent-over positioned. Iris’s hands had been cuffed and chained to a pole in the ceiling, keeping her restrained so that her arms were kept above her head. She just barely touched the floor, leaving the cuffs to pull and pinch at her wrists and forcing her to balance on her toes. Such a feat proven even more difficult as blood loss and starvation made her unsteady.

“Guess that means we’ll have to get a bit more creative, won’t we?” he asked Iris, slowly walking towards her.

The tiny cyclops buried her cheek against her upper arm as he approached, terrified to look at him. The masked man reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair, twisting it so she was forced to turn her head in his direction. Iris cried out. Her large eye stared at him as if she was seeing Tartarus rise from the underworld, her pupil so large it almost completely covered the green of her iris.

“After all, I’m sure there’s plenty of other cyclopes in the stories whom I can take inspiration for,” the masked man said snidely.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” Manny demanded.

The masked man turned around. The minotaur glared at him; it looked rather funny, to be honest, the way he was trying to stare him down even as he was trapped in a humiliation device and could do nothing more than kick his feet backward. There was also a shadow of fear still apparent in his eyes and he shook like a leaf as the masked man turned his gaze on him.

“You sound angry. Are you angry?” the masked man questioned, letting go of Iris and stalking over to him, reveling in the way Manny instantly tried to back up, “Why don’t you snap those cuffs in half and gore me, then? Devour my flesh like your ancestor did in the labyrinth? Or are these just more words by a little calf trying to show off his horns?”

Manny’s nose was bleeding, his septum a gory mess from where the masked man had ripped out his nose ring. The masked man hooked his fingers into his nostrils and yanked upward, earning a scream from the minotaur as he aggravated the wound. A fresh spray of blood burst from it, flecking his mask in dots of red.

“The mighty minotaur, the fiercest beast in all of Crete,” he narrated as he pulled Manny’s head from side to side, the blonde taurine screeching in pain all the while, “The nightmare lurking in the labyrinth. You’re just a pitiful little piece of veal.”

He released him and shrugged. “If you insist on being the tough guy, though,” he said, “Then you can take this next one for her. Let her see if her big, strong manster is all he’s cracked up to be.”

He walked over to the small table he brought to this room and sorted through the various tools on its surface. He grabbed something long and metal off it and held it behind his back as he reached for the blowtorch again.

Iris and Manny followed his movements with caution, their hearts thumping hard in fear.

The masked man fiddled with the blow torch, allowing the cramped room to stink with the heady smell of gasoline as he turned it back on. He grabbed the flint striker that lay near it and squeezed it, igniting a small, but steady and hot flame from the blow torch’s nozzle.

He turned back to them, allowing them to see the other object in his hand as he held the flame of the blow torch to it.

Manny and Iris both went pale in terror as they recognized the object was a branding iron, one whose shape was that of the lowercase form of the Greek letter Mu.

“I was originally toying with the idea of castrating you, but it’s obvious you don’t have much balls to begin with,” the masked man commented as he heated the iron, “So I thought I’d test your endurance- see if you could put up with what your more bovine relatives experience on a daily basis.”

The branding iron glowed red hot from the heat that it conducted from the blow torch. The masked man kept the blow torch on it for a few more seconds, before he took it away. In the dimness of the room, the iron’s fiery red color looked almost unholy.

Holding the iron with both hands, the masked man pointed it forward and marched towards Manny.

“N-N-N-No, no, g-get away,” the minotaur ordered pitifully, looking scared out of his mind. He tried to pull away, something that was obviously impossible as the pillory kept him locked in place.

The masked man went around the pillory so he could stand behind him. He grabbed the leg of Manny’s boxers and pushed it upwards, exposing the bare hide of his glute and thigh.

“M-M-Manny,” Iris whimpered from her position.

“Iris, don’t look,” Manny demanded frantically.

“Let her,” the masked man teased, “She could tell me how well this turns out.”

The chains above her head rattled violently as Iris shook. Her eye filled with tears and she called out to the masked man, “S-S-Stop! Stop, don’t hurt him, please! Please-“

Both teens cut themselves off with shrill screams as the masked man raised the heated cattle iron and pressed it hard against Manny’s glute.

Manny bellowed in anguish as he threw his head back, every vein popping out against his neck. His legs immediately shook as he tried to pull himself away from the heat, but the masked man just pressed it harder. Iris screamed in horror and swung wildly from the pole as she kicked frantically from pure terror at the scene going on in front of her.

There was a sizzling sound that reminded the masked man of meat cooking on a grill. A small cloud of smoke started to rise from the contacted area.

Finally, he pulled the iron away. Manny bowed his head and cried out, his legs trembling like they were about to give out on him. On the skin of the flank, where the masked man had put the iron, there was now a large white outline of Mu blistering his skin. Iris sobbed helplessly.

The masked man tilted his head as he observed the mark.

“It’s fine,” he commented, “But it’s also an area easily covered. I think it should be somewhere where you’re sure never to forget it.”

Manny stiffened as he lifted the iron again. This time so that it was level with his cheek.

“No, please,” he pleaded, “Please no, no more!”

“Stop, stop hurting him!” Iris cried, “Stop, he never did anything!”

Their cries fell on deaf ears and quickly melded into screams as the masked man came forward again and pressed the iron to Manny’s face.

* * *

Spectra gazed out upon the crowd that had gathered. She glanced between them, a thin purple brow cocking up in curiosity as she analyzed the body language of those that stood in them, anticipating what possibly could happen as a result of this gathering. She slid her hand into the pocket of her skirt, making sure her phone was the ready in case something juicy occurred. 

The mob of angry monster parents stood in front of New Salem’s human police department, all of them shouting at the front doors. A few of them had poster boards that they were waving above their heads, decorated with slogans like _WHERE ARE OUR CHILDREN _or _STOP HIDING THE TRUE MONSTERS_, accompanied by pictures of the various students from her school that had been reported missing in the past few months. They all were shouting expletives or demands at the doors.

“Geez, they really meant it,” she heard underneath her, “When I heard my dad talk about it, I assumed it would end up just being another angry rant at the next PTA meeting.”

Spectra looked below and floated down to meet Invisi Billy’s level. He was looking at the crowd with an unsure expression, his hands stuffed into his pocket.

“Hoo boy, that is a big crowd,” Operetta commented as her and Johnny strolled up, “Ya sure this is a good idea, Spectra? This looks like it has potential riot on the eleven o’clock news written all over it.”

Spectra turned to them. Behind the couple, she could see Sirena, Vandala, Porter, and Kiyomi floating up from behind them.

“That’s why I figured we get here as soon as possible,” she explained, “In case anything went down, then we would have a first-hand experience to be able to tell it like it is exactly how it happened.”

“Besides, what could they do to _us_?” Johnny asked smugly, “Call the exorcist to try and compel us to life?”

“What about me?” Billy asked.

“You can disappear like you were never there. You’re practically a ghost,” Johnny countered.

Kiyomi gave them both a frown of disapproval. “Either way,” she said, “Considering the _issues _at hand and how many people are here, we should still be cautious.”

“Agreed,” Vandala added, “Ye never know when the mood change thing. Tis lookin’ like it could change from a whirlpool to a tidal wave in any second.”

They all stood back from the crowd on the sidewalk, gathered under one of the streetlights as they watched the parents continued to yell at the police station.

“Why don’t you come out and admit you did it already, you cowards!” one mother snarled as she waved a wooden sign. She was wearing a baggy white t-shirt that had Harper Quill’s picture printed on the front, with **JUSTICE FOR HARPER** in big red letters on the back.

“Months of increased incidents against monsters from the people of _this _town, then three monster kids go missing and all of a sudden, it’s silent?” a lake monster asked incredulously, “It doesn’t add up!”

The mob yelled various terms of agreement. A varcolac who held a sign displaying the pictures of Clawd and the other werewolves who’d been missing stepped forth.

“Don’t forget that this all didn’t start until they demanded the return of their ‘precious’ administrator,” he snarled, “The man who is the great-grandson of the most feared monster hunter of all! The descendant of the man who tried to take down Lord Dracula!”

“Ever since he was broken out of that stone prison where he rightfully belonged, things have gone to hell in a hand basket quicker than an oni in rush hour!” a vampire with a southern accent proclaimed.

They continued to point out various instances of when human civilians got involved in monster affairs for several minutes, before they resumed demanding for the police to come out. At first, it seemed that their efforts were all in vain- though, from what the ghosts observed, it seemed that the parents didn’t really care if they got a response or not, but rather just wanted somewhere to vent- before, in a surprise twist, the front glass doors of the police station opened and the sheriff and a few of his colleagues stepped out.

“Here comes the omen,” Operetta muttered.

The sheriff stepped out into the sunlight. As soon as the monsters saw him, they erupted into a chorus of boo’s and other venomous words of disapproval. Stopping at the top of the steps, he looked out among the crowd and put his hands on his hips. There was a small smile of amusement on his mustached face.

“Okay folks, what seems to be the problem here?” he asked loudly, “What troubles you all on this lovely day?”

“The problem is you and everyone in this godforsaken community who knows the truth about what happened to our children,” a crocodile monster said hatefully to him.

“The truth will come out sooner or later, so you might as well fess up now,” a werecat demanded.

The sheriff raised his hands in a passive manner. His eyebrows went up to almost his hairline in surprise.

“Whoa, whoa, there folks!” he exclaimed, “I understand completely that these are trying times for the monster community- I can’t imagine the heartache and the stress you must all be under. Losing a child is a terrible thing and it’s something no parent should have to go through.

“But,” he added, “I assure you, me nor my men had anything to do with these terrible crimes. Believe me, we have been working alongside the monster police force to try and assist in finding the culprit. I know there’s been some bad blood between our towns for quite a long time, but nobody here would do such a horrendous thing.”

“Involved because you want to help? Or involved because it means you can better cover your tracks?” a dad snarled up at the brunette.

“Why should we believe a word you said? Don’t think we haven’t look up the shoddy track record of the people in your department!” another yelled from the back.

Spectra rapidly typed down notes on her tablet. She glanced up at the crowd, one eyebrow raised in curiosity at the direction of how this protest was going to go.

Sirena nudged her and asked, “What do they mean about ‘track record?’”

Spectra grimaced, thinking back to the disastrous events leading up to Halloween sophomore year. “Um, let’s just say the human New Salem police did some things last year that could be considered a bit…unethical.”

Porter snorted, “Don’t they always? The only reason a good majority of them ever go in is so they get to feel like kings while they’re beating the crap out of people with their night sticks.”

The group looked away from the crowd for a second, their attention turned towards the sound of another commotion coming from down the street. It looked to be a gathering of humans, who, just like the monster parents, were shouting slogans and waving signs. Instead of missing persons posters and demands for confessions, however, their signs had phrases such as _UNHOLY FREAKS GO HOME, Keep New Salem Monster-Free, _and _No Scales, No Fangs, No Wings, No Problems. _

“Great,” Vandala muttered, “The biscuit eater brigade is here.”

The sheriff continued to try and placate the crowd. “I know most of you won’t believe me,” he said, “And I understand you all have a good reason not to. But I swear on my mother’s grave, nobody in this police force is responsible for these kidnappings.”

“Even if they were, they should be given a medal!” someone from the approaching human crowd shouted out, “If that person had the sense, they should’ve burned your damn town to the ground a long time ago!”

The sheriff and everyone else looked in the direction as the human crowd came stopping in. The monsters snarled and snapped, matching the disdain that was apparent in the human parents as they regarded them all with sneers and stares of disgust.

“I say it’s good that someone finally showed you abominations what it’s like to be afraid,” some woman spat out from the front of the crowd, “Put you back in the darkness where you belong.”

The monster crowd grew louder as they roared words of protest and curses at the humans. The sheriff glanced between them, noticing how the tension in the air had thickened within seconds.

“Hey, folks,” he said, “Let’s not lose our heads now. This is all just one big-“

“Y’all want to be angry at us, accuse of hurting your kids, take a look at yourselves,” a man from the human crowd shouted, “Your vamps and wolves were about to go all West Side Story, last time I checked!”

“That incident was entirely a human’s fault and no one else’s,” one parent snarled, “He goaded our children into war, he imprisoned our teachers, and he tried to threaten staff and students alike once he was caught!”

“You tried to have a teenage boy murdered because of vandalism _your _children committed,” another mother growled, “Which occurred after they also vandalized Monster High!”

“Don’t forget the time one of them tried to kidnap students for his goddamn freakshow!” a werewolf yelled out from the back.

A woman from the human crowd sneered, “Oh, whoa is you. That doesn’t measure up to even half of all the hell your town has put us through all those years ago.”

A slime monster pushed to the front of the crowd and pointed at her accusingly.

“If you’re all so tough, then do something it about yourselves,” he exclaimed in long, drawn out voice, “Don’t keep sitting back and letting your experts do all the dirty work. You want to take us out, quit pussyfooting around and get your hands bloody already.”

The human crowd moved closer as some men took up the front. The men pushed up their shirt sleeves like they were itching for a fight.

“You’ve got a big mouth for someone who can fall through a sewer drain,” a guy with a mustache hissed at the slime monster.

The monsters began to move closer. It looked like it was leading up to a straight-from-television scene of an old school mob rumble, like something straight out of The Hauntsiders. Spectra held her tablet to her chest like it was a makeshift shield, nervously awaiting the next course of action. Billy and the rest of the ghosts backed up as well, all of them on guard on the possibility of a real fight breaking out.

“HEY!” the sheriff yelled at the top of his lungs.

Everyone jumped. Both crowds looked in his direction, their attention momentarily diverted from one-upping one another in the stare of death to glance at the brunette with surprise.

“There will be absolutely no violence on this property,” he said in a loud, angry voice, his face pinched and his dark blue eyes hardened, “You all, both man and monster, have every right to practice your first amendments and protest and I will not interfere with that. But under _no _circumstances are you all going to stand here in front of the police station and engage in childish violence. You all are adults so act like it.

“My men and I won’t get involved and if any of you want to question me, demand my head, whatever, I will do so in stride,” he said, “But the _second_ anyone throws a punch, I’ll have you all thrown in the slammer without any bail. Got it?”

There was some muttering from either crowd- particularly, Spectra overheard a few of them mumble things like “allegedly, until he finds humans he’s buddy-buddy with”- but everyone eventually backed off. The human crowd, all of them looking upon the cryptids like they were pieces of trash or rotting food, slowly started to disperse and head back the way they came.

It looked like something was about to occur when one of them hacked and spit only a few feet away from where some of the monsters were standing, but the monsters let it go, albeit after baring their teeth at the man and hissing. The human crowd settled for waiting a few blocks down, near where town hall and the post office were located and started waving their signs.

The monsters turned back to the sheriff. The ghosts watched as he sighed as the monsters resumed their chants like nothing had happened in the first place. Nodding at his buddies, he headed back into the police station, leaving the angry cryptids to scream several nasty words at him and demand for his resignation.

The group continued their protest, a few parents now getting out their phones and presumably writing about the event on their social media. Some started marching around in a circle, their signs bobbing up and down like buoys floating on the water. Others tossed rocks up the steps, though luckily none landed far enough to actually risk shattering the windows. By now, it wasn’t exactly clear what their intentions were besides someone finally seeing and hearing their voices and their pent up emotions.

Sensing that the worst was over, Billy and the ghosts shared a look, before they all silently broke away from the scene.

As they floated and walked back to the monster side of town, Sirena looked up at the sky.

“You know, I do wonder, though,” she asked, “Do you really think it could have been the normies? I mean, I know I wasn’t there to experience the prior incidents, but hearing what happened from the other students, I can’t exactly say I find their accusations out of the blue.”

“They do seem like they have a wee bit of a vengeful streak in them,” Vandala admitted.

Billy shook his head in disagreement, “The community wasn’t involved with Van Hellscream or Farnum. The only real case you could make is based on last Halloween, and even then, at the most it was only stupid pranks.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call wanting to chop a dude’s head off a stupid prank,” Johnny pointed out.

Billy continued, “That wasn’t their demand, though. The sheriff decided that himself.”

Porter gave him a look. “So the guy in charge of the police decides to kill off a minority despite his innocence because the people demand that they be punished. Oh, yeah, that sounds _sooo _much more reasonable.”

Operetta frowned. They just didn’t understand. It was easy from the outside looking in to think that pointing the finger was justified when you didn’t see just how quickly the tides could turn. They weren’t around to see how the vampires and werewolves went from getting along to hating one another again in only a matter of weeks due to Van Hellscream’s meddling. They didn’t feel the terror that came when Farnum managed to take down several of them within seconds.

They didn’t feel the absolute, gut-wrenching fear that held Operetta and the other students in a death grip as they stood in the crowd that Halloween, unwilling to watch but unable to turn away at the sight of Holt being a mere few inches away from the guillotine; the realization that, had Frankie and all them not interfered that they were about to see his head be nothing more than a stump of spurting blood making her want to throw up.

The sense of balance between the two communities- so alike and yet worlds apart- was already fragile. Starting a blame game based on old grudges and suspicions wouldn’t help anyone right now. They didn’t need another race war to break out at a time when everyone and anyone was at risk.

Kiyomi rubbed her arms like she was cold. Her glow turned stark grey as she looked over her shoulder fearfully, as afraid she was going to see someone following them from behind.

“This whole thing is just so creepy,” she said uneasily, “I’m starting to feel like we’re in the middle of an Hagatha Christshriek novel.”

“Tell me about it,” Porter commented, “It sounds terrible, but I can’t help but think that even with the news of Harper and Moorey, that there’s still another shoe to drop. Like, we haven’t seen just how bad it can get.”

They all nodded, all of them sharing in the feeling. They looked around anxiously, like they had jinxed themselves and whatever big event was going to come popping out from behind the bushes at any second. It was an uncomfortable subject for all of them, especially for Spectra, Vandala, Kiyomi, Porter, and Johnny, who knew better than most of the kids at their school- even the immortal ones- just how horrible dying in grisly fashion could be.

It was a depressing, horrifying reality they were living in right now, and the fact that there had yet to be an end to things in sight only reminded them of just how helpless they really were.

* * *

_Later that night…._

Clawdeen sat at her desk, hunched over her history of the undead textbook as she tried to focus on the assignment she needed to complete. Her eyes scanned the passages repeatedly, but no matter how times she re-read them, she found that she just couldn’t make them register in her brain.

Eventually, she gave up trying to focus and pushed the book away from her. Her attention span had been greatly reduced as of late, and though she tried her best to not fall behind on her schoolwork, there were times like tonight that she was too distracted to be able to push through.

It was hard to pay attention and write reports and solve calculus problems when every little thought she had came back around to the fact that her boyfriend and brother were missing what was now months and there was still no sign of that changing.

She gripped her pencil tightly. Clawdeen put it down and propped her cheek up on her palm as she stared at a random pen mark on the pages of her notebook forlornly.

It had been, what? Two months, three months? And still nothing.

Her heart did a painful lurch in her chest. She thought back to the night they both had gone missing- because they were in a bit of a hurry, she had only had time to look out of her window and blow him a small kiss as he waved to her. She remembered how when Clawd passed her room on the way downstairs, she had just told him to have fun and make sure he didn’t stay out too late.

“Yes, _mother,” _Clawd had replied jokingly.

“I’m just saying,” Clawdeen had responded, “I don’t want you to yell at me if you stay up all night and end up sleeping in and end up not getting your ass up in time for school tomorrow.”

Her ears lowered. To think, that was the last thing she had ever said to her brother. There was a part of her mind that told her she wasn’t doing herself any favors by obsessing over the small pool of guilt, but the brown wolf couldn’t help it.

When was the last time she had told him she loved him? Or said anything to him that wasn’t the two of them bickering over some petty bullshit? It all seemed so juvenile now, with this hanging over her head.

That led her thoughts to Romulus, which made her feel only worse. Just the night before he had disappeared, he had talked about wanting to take her on a date that weekend; that week had been extremely stressful, with extracurricular activities and Romulus’s senior projects making them unable to even talk to one another outside of video chat and messaging. It had been a while since they had some proper alone time together, and he suggested going out on a movie date.

A date which ended up never happening. A pang of sorrow hit Clawdeen like a knife to the heart.

Tears came to her eyes as she felt the strength of just how much she missed the both of them grab a hold of her and nearly crush her its grip. All the things she never appreciated in the moment that she may very well never see again.

The rare moments her and Clawd would unwind and have deep, personal conversations with one another as they got fountain drinks from the gas station after fearleading and casketball practice, how her and Romulus would sometimes just cuddle on his bed and Clawdeen felt like she was in the safest place in the world, how Clawd always tried to cheer her up and always checked in on her when she had a bad day, Romulus’s smile and how it always made her feel like she was the only thing in the world he noticed- how it always made her feel better on days when she felt like she was invinsible…

She hung her head as she stifled a sob. A few tears escaped and trailed down her cheeks, meeting together under her chin and dripping into her lap.

A knock at the door broke her from this cloud of despair. Clawdeen sat up and wiped at her eyes. 

“_Deenie?” _a little boy’s voice called from the other side.

Clawdeen sniffed and fanned her hands in front of her face, trying to bring down the redness of her face.

“What do you need, Barker?” she asked.

The door opened and her little brother’s head popped in.

“I can’t find my toy,” Barker said as he slid into the room, standing against the door.

“Have you looked under the couch? Or looked in your backpack?” Clawdeen asked, repeating the questions she always asked whenever one of her younger siblings was in this predicament.

Barker nodded, “It’s not there. I think I dropped it when Furrsey and me were playing in the backyard earlier.”

Clawdeen answered, “Then just look in the backyard.”

“I did, it’s not there,” Barker pouted, “I remember Furrsey put it on the swing earlier when we were playing. I think it fell off when he pushed it and went into the woods.”

Clawdeen shrugged, “Then you’re just going to have to wait until tomorrow to ask Dad to look for it.”

That earned her a desperate glare from the yellow-haired pup as he looked up, panicked by her statement.

“I can’t!” Barker exclaimed, “I wanted to bring it to show-and-tell! It’s the brand-new Mighty Monster Mommy and Daddy got my birthday! If I leave it, some aminal might take it!”

“Well, then, that’s too bad,” Clawdeen turned in her chair to face him, crossing her arms, “Maybe this should be a lesson to you to take better care of your things.”

Barker looked up at her with a pleading look. His light green eyes were wide and large in the way he always made them whenever he wanted something from their parents.

“Pleaaaase, Deenie,” he begged, “Leena’s not here right now and Howie and them aren’t listening to me. I don’t want my toy to get broken.”

Clawdeen gave him a look. “Barker…”

He put his hands together like in prayer and raised them up. His lip started to quiver.

“Please,” he begged.

She stared at him for a moment, her brows furrowing. His baby face was too much for her, though, so with a sigh, Clawdeen stood up.

“Okay, fine,” she said, “But don’t make this a habit. You need to be more responsible for your stuff if you don’t want it getting damaged.”

Barker immediately perked up and smiled. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Deenie!”

He eagerly followed her out the room as she pulled on a sweatshirt and made her way downstairs. The rest of the sextuplets were gathered in their living room, playing with a variety of toys that were dumped out all over the carpet. Hairron and Furrsey made animal noises as they chased each other with dinosaur figurines, while Clawdius drew in a coloring book and Pawla and Snarland argued over a stuffed toy. In their play pen, Weredith and Packlynn amused themselves with teething rings.

Nino and Rocks were slouched on the sofa, neither of them paying attention to the ruckus or the mess as they remained fully entranced in their video game, their eyes glued to the screen.

“If Mom and Dad get home and this mess isn’t cleaned up, I’m not taking the fall,” Clawdeen said as she passed them on her way to the back door, Barker toddling behind her like a puppy.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rocks said blankly, “_Fuck, _hurry up, Nino! They’re totally bagging us right now!”

Clawdeen opened the back door and slid the screen back. The cool late autumn night air chilled her skin as it easily seeped through her thin leggings.

“Okay, where do you think it landed?” she asked Barker as she looked out on the backyard in the direction of the swing set.

Barker pointed to the left corner of the backyard fence, where the soccer net rested, along with a couple of dirt mounds from where Clawd had dug holes. On the other side, a few immature birch trees rose up over the fence.

“Furrsey was using that one,” he said.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a minute,” Clawdeen called to the living room as she slipped on a pair of sandals.

All she got from the boys was a caveman-like “hmph”.

The earth was soft and slick from the heavy showers that had occurred earlier in the evening; Clawdeen grimaced as she felt the soles of her flip flops sink in to the mud and let out small squelching sounds from where it started to suction cup her soles.

_The things I do for these pups, _she thought to herself in dismay as a sudden gust of wind blew in her direction, messing up her hair and freezing her. Yet, she was not in the mood nor had the energy for dealing with a fussy seven-year-old tantrum, so right now it was better to just try and pacify Barker with finding his lost toy.

She walked to the fence door and let herself out onto the other side. She made her way around the width to the spot that Barker had pointed to. The birch trees were placed in a way that made a small path that led into the forest.

Clawdeen’s eyes glowed slightly green in the darkness as she scanned the ground for any sign of plastic. She doubted it could’ve gone far with her child brother’s strengths.

Her gaze darted to the right as she caught sight of something yellow. There, by the large cedar that stood on the very edge of the hill that descended into the woods, a medium sized action figure rested at its roots. The figure was that of a six-armed superhero with four eyes and modeled in an outfit that was yellow and bright green.

“There you are,” Clawdeen commented, walking over to the Mighty Monster figure and bending over to pick it up. She wiped some stray dirt and leaves off it, and other than probably needing to be washed, it looked relatively unharmed.

She turned away and had started back for the fence, when she was alerted to the cracking of a branch a few feet away, right at the bottom of the hill.

Clawdeen paused. She glanced towards the darkened forest. There was no sign of any animals nearby.

Her grip on the action figure tightened.

_Calm down, _she told herself, _Don’t let yourself get all worked up over nothing. It’s a stressful time and your anxiety’s getting the best of you. _

A small thing of movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn her head sharply to the street. A couple of cats were hurrying across the asphalt, either having been let out or escaped from their houses.

Clawdeen sighed, shaking her head. She was being ridiculous. Look at her, about ready to jump out of her pelt like a skinwalker because of a couple of alley cats.

“It’s not them you should worried about,” a deep voice said behind her.

Clawdeen stiffened. Her blood turned to ice.

She only had enough time to spin on her heel- her eye caught something large, broad, and black- before her head cocked back as a fist came up and delivered a hard uppercut to her chin.

Her jaws slammed together painfully and created an ear-grating sound that echoed through her head. Her mouth filled with the taste of blood as the force caused her to bite her tongue. The impact sent Clawdeen flying right onto her back. The action figure flew from her hands and landed somewhere out of sight.

Before she could even recover from the hit, a large hand grabbed her ankle and yanked her from the spot. He dragged her along the ground and towards the direction of the forest with the speed of a cheetah running through the desert. Still dazed from the hit, Clawdeen could do little more than flail behind him wildly, her claws digging into the dirt as she tried to find some resistance.

His grip was like iron as she finally recovered and tried to yank her leg free, the young werewolf finally letting out a scream. Clawdeen thrashed around violently, the stars in the sky passing by like fast-motion film as he pulled her deeper and deeper into the trees.

Rocks scraped at her stomach as Clawdeen managed to flip. She looked up at the house getting smaller and smaller.

“HELP!” she screamed out, “ROCKS, NINO! BARKER, HELP-“

Butterflies soared in her stomach as she felt her body get lifted off the ground. She let out a shout of alarm as she found herself suddenly flying through the air, before it was cut off with a cry of pain as her back collided with the thick middle of a tree.

Clawdeen crumbled to the ground, curling up with a choked groan as pain erupted over her body. The crash against the tree had knocked the wind out of her, so she struggled to regain air in her lungs as she tried to lift herself up.

Something heavy landed on top of her and pinned her to the ground. Clawdeen screamed and tried to fight, only to feel a fist clenched a handful of hair and slammed her face first into the hard dirt. She yelped and immediately ceased, her head swimming.

A pair of rough hands grabbed her wrists and pressed his weight against her, pinning her to the ground. The beak of his masked rammed against her cheek as he leaned over to look at her face. Clawdeen bristled with fear, squirming under his weight.

“It’s not quite safe for a pretty little ghoul like you to be wandering out near the woods at this hour,” the masked man teased, “You never know when the wolf is going to come out of the shadows and strike.”

Underneath him, Clawdeen weakly tried to pull her wrists free. She kept her eyes glued to the earth, unwilling to look at him.

The masked man let out what sounded to be a purr of amusement.

“Struggle all you want, little wolf. Your ‘big bad’ brother and boy-toy aren’t here to save you,” the masked man hissed with amusement in her ear.

Clawdeen clenched her fists into the mud. She could feel herself start to tremble from a combination of fear and cold as the wet grass dampened her clothes.

“W-W-Where are they?” she questioned, “What have you done to them?”

The masked man smirked. “I could tell you. Or maybe, I might just show you.”

In a quick instant, he switched both wrists to one hand and slid his free one under her, slipping it under her shirt.

“N-N-No,” Clawdeen whimpered as he reached up and slid his hand into her bra, where his gloved hand grabbed a hold of her breast.

“Maybe I’ll keep you as one my own,” the masked man muttered, roughly fondling her, “You could be my new little toy, just like my pretty kitty. My own little lunar slut.”

He was heavily aroused. The scent made Clawdeen’s stomach churn with the threat of vomiting. Tears streamed down her face from frustration from her predicament. He was someone had placed a giant boulder on top of her, leaving her helpless to remove herself as he continued to molest her, feeling her breasts, her stomach, and her butt.

She cried out as he slipped his hand down into her leggings. His fingers were like painful little worms as they yanked aside her underwear and probed around before they were inside her, violating her.

“Or maybe I’ll take you to your precious little lover and let him watch,” he said, “I wonder, has he claimed you yet? Has he made you howl at the moon from popping your cherry?” 

Clawdeen writhed in discomfort, sobbing at the inability to get him away from her. Thankfully, the masked man finally removed his hand from her clothes. She clamped her thighs together, the feeling of him lingering on her like a mild burn.

“That will have to be for later, though,” the masked man said, “For now, I’ll think I’ll leave you with a little a reminder. A demo, if you will, for what is to come if you and your friends don’t watch yourselves.”

Clawdeen felt something thin and cold press against her belly, before she jerked and let out an ear-splitting shriek as pain suddenly erupted below her belly button. The masked man dragged the knife across her stomach, digging the blade into the soft flesh and pulling it along so that it extended from hip to hip.

Blood poured from the jagged gash, soaking the damp earth and Clawdeen’s clothes in red. Pain radiated from the area. Clawdeen howled and beat her fists against the ground; her screams echoed through the forest like a siren.

The masked man ripped the knife free and finally released her. He stood to full height, watching the brown wolf as she curled into a ball and pressed her hands to the wound. Within seconds, they were covered in blood.

He looked in the direction of her house as he heard heavy footsteps pounding against the ground that seemed to be coming towards them. He glanced down at his bloodstained knife and then towards Clawdeen, who lay sobbing with pain at his feet.

“Until next time, my dear,” he bid the werewolf jovially, before he disappeared into the shadows in a wisp of black.

Clawdeen remained on the ground, crying at the agony that bloomed from her stomach. She let out another howl of pain, unable to make even the slightest movement without feeling like she was getting torn in half at the waist.

“H-H-HELP!” she screamed, “SOMEONE, PLEASE, HELP ME!”

“_Clawdeen?!” _she heard Rocks call out from somewhere in front of her. She lifted her head to see him, Nino, and Don running down the hill towards her. From farther away at the house, she could hear Barker crying.

“Rocks, help!” Clawdeen pleaded, “Please, it hurts!”

Rock’s dark yellow eyes went wide in horror as they landed on the blood that pooled beneath her and coated her hands. The smell of iron was overwhelming to his nose.

“Clawdeen!” he exclaimed, rushing over to her, “Shit! Nino, go call 911!”

Nino obeyed without a second comment. He was bolting from the house as Rocks and Don dropped to their knees to help their sister. Rock’s hands hovered above Clawdeen, unsure of what to do. Don, ever the bookworm, immediately shrugged off his jacket.

“’Deen, I need you to move your hands,” he commanded softly.

Clawdeen took her hands away so he could press the jacket up against the cut to try and stifle the blood flow. She whimpered as the pressure worsened the pain.

“Clawdeen, what the hell happened?” Rocks questioned, “Who did this?”

“It was….i-i-it was him,” Clawdeen sobbed, “The guy who took Clawd and Rom, h-he was here!”

Both brothers went pale. They shared a look of horror at the thought that the kidnapper was so close to home. Don quickly shook his head, however, refusing to get caught up in it when Clawdeen needed their help.

“We have to move her,” he said sternly to Rocks, “Get her back to the house until the ambulance comes.”

Rocks nodded. He looked down at Clawdeen and placed a gentle hand on her arm.

“Deen, I’m going to pick you up, okay?” he asked gently, “It’s going to hurt a little, but we need to get you out of here so we can get you help.”

The look of complete agony on his sister’s face tore him up inside, but Clawdeen gave a shaky nod of understanding.

“Okay,” she sobbed out.

“Okay,” Rocks repeated, sliding his hands under her, “Ready? One, two, three…”

With one arm under her knees and the other on her back, he squatted and heaved her up so that he could hold her against his chest. Clawdeen screamed through gritted teeth as the action agitated the gash. She held Rock’s shoulder in a death grip, smearing blood over his flannel.

“Let’s go,” he said to Dawn before he started for the house.

They ran as fast as they could, Rocks holding Clawdeen in his arms as she wept. From the feel of Don’s soaked jacket around her waist, they knew they didn’t have much time.

* * *

Draculaura sped down the highway, weaving in between lanes and flooring the gas pedal like she was someone being chased in an action movie. Cars behind her honked at her as she cut them off and she knew she was probably miles over the speed limit, but all the pink-clad vampire could focus on now was getting to the hospital right away.

She had just gotten done running errands, Ramoanah having asked her to while her and her father worked late today. Her and Fangelica had been loading their groceries into her trunk when her phone had suddenly started going off. When she pulled it out, she was surprised to see Howleen of all people was trying to call her.

From the minute she had pressed “call”, she knew something bad had happened as the line connected her to Howleen’s hysterical, sobbing voice, but the young werewolf was crying so hard that it took a few minutes for her to piece together what had happened.

It wasn’t until Howleen took a few breaths and muttered just one sentence that she understood.

“_Clawdeen’s been attacked,” _she had said.

Fangelica had stared up at her in fright as Laura suddenly went rigid, her face going as white as her fangs. Laura was honestly surprised she hadn’t ended up dropping her phone or the eggs.

She overheard Twyla take the phone from Howleen.

“_They’re at Salem General right now_,” was all she said, “_Howleen and I will meet you there.” _

Draculaura had practically smashed all the groceries from the way she had practically thrown them in the trunk as she ordered Fangelica to help them hurriedly put them in. After that, they had rushed into their seats, Laura not even waiting until either of them was buckled in to rev up the engine and tear themselves out of the parking lot.

“Laura, what’s going on? I’m scared,” Fangelica whimpered from the back seat.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, I’ll explain everything when we get there,” Laura said as she sped up in front of a Hummer, only putting her turn signal on for a second before she pulled into the lane that led to the exit that led to the hospital.

She pulled her phone from her skirt pocket and leaned back to hand it to Fangelica, trying not to take her eyes off the road.

“Here,” she said, “Text Daddy and tell him that we’re on the way to the hospital. Something happened with Clawdeen so we’re going to see them.”

Fangelica held the phone between her small fingers. Her large violet eyes glanced up at the back of her sister’s head in fear.

“S-S-Something’s wrong with Deenie?” she sniffled, “W-What happened?”

“I wish I knew, Fangie,” Draculaura said, looking at her from the rearview mirror, “Right now, though, I need you to text Daddy and let him know where we are, okay?”

Fangelica looked like she was on the verge of tears but nodded and glanced down at the screen to send the message. Draculaura turned her attention back to the road and turned off on the exit. Up ahead past the upcoming roundabout, she could see the tall white towers of the hospital.

It took all her willpower to not speed in the hospital’s parking lot as she frantically looked around to try and find a parking spot. She quickly turned the engine off and helped Fangelica out of her car seat, only pausing long enough to lock the doors before the two vampires darted into the wing of the hospital.

Holding Fangelica’s hand, Laura ran them both to the front desk. The werebat secretary jumped in her seat as she approached and slammed her hands on the counter in front of her. She rolled back in her chair a few inches, regarding the tiny vampire a bit warily as she took in her wide-eyed, manic gaze and her disheveled hair.

“I need,” Draculaura panted, “The room number for a Miss Clawdeen Wolf, please?”

“Um, sure,” the werebat said, turning to her computer, “Relation?”

“Friend,” Draculaura said, “Best friend.”

The werebat typed some things in, the old-model computer keys clacking under her clawed fingers. “Uh, room 354, wing Y.”

“Thanks,” Draculaura said, pulling Fangelica along with her to the elevator.

They took it up to the third floor and got off. Draculaura looked up and down the hallway, trying to find the signs that could direct them to where the Y wing was. Just as she directed herself and Fangelica to the right, she heard a voice behind her.

“Draculaura?” Twyla’s voice called out, “Draculaura! Over here!”

Draculaura turned around. The bogeyghoul waved at her from the end of the hall. Her and Fangelica ran to her and Twyla led them around the corner.

“Is she okay? What happened?” Laura asked frantically. Her head raised at the sight of a familiar group of werewolves gathered outside one of the rooms.

Howleen sat in the chair nearest to the door, bouncing her leg anxiously as she continuously shot nervous glances towards it. She gripped the edges of her seat so tightly it looked like the plastic was about to break in her grip. Nino sat beside her, awkwardly trying to balance the twins on his lap, the both of them squirming fussily. Pawla and Barker shared the leftmost chair, the latter crying his eyes out as Pawla tried to comfort him.

Rocks, Don, and Howie slumped against the wall, their brothers hugging their legs and looking scared and confused out of their minds. Rock’s shirt was covered in blood and Don clutched a bloodstained jacket.

They all looked towards the two ghouls as they made their way towards them. Howleen shot out of her seat the minute she saw Draculaura. The shorter monster ran to her and put her hand on her arm, glancing between her and the door.

“How is she? Did they say anything?” she questioned.

Howleen shook her head and looked over her shoulder. “They’re doing her stitches now. Mom and Dad are in with her. Since then, it’s been silent.”

Draculaura looked over at the boys. Her eyes lingered on the bloody hand printed onto Rocks’s shoulder.

“What…what happened?” she asked again, “How did this happen?”

“I-I don’t know,” Howleen said shakily, “Twyla and me were at her house studying, and that’s when Howie called me.”

“It was my fault!” Barker suddenly cried out.

They all looked towards the young pup. Barker wiped his nose with his sleeve as he wept.

“I asked her if she could get my toy. I didn’t know the bad man was there!” he sobbed, “I just wanted my toy back. I didn’t know she’d get hurt! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

He burst into tears and buried his head in his hands. Pawla turned to him and rubbed his back, trying to make him feel better. Draculaura and all them stared at him, all heartbroken at the sight.

Howie, looking pale and shaken, was the one to go and soothe him. He bent over and wrapped the little pup up in his arms, rubbing his hair as Barker cried into his shoulder.

“Come on, buddy, don’t do that,” he said, “It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”

They all turned as the door flew open. Viktor stood there, clad in scrubs and a white lab coat. He scanned their faces, before he stood to the side and gestured with his arm.

“You all can come in now,” he said.

Draculaura and all of them filed in after one another. Clawdeen lay reclined on the large blue chair in the middle, Clawrk and Harriet standing over her. Her sweatshirt had been pulled up, exposing the large patch of gauze and medical tape that had been applied to her lower stomach; Laura felt a wave of a nausea come over her at the splotches of dried blood that covered the werewolf’s leggings and shirt.

Clawdeen lulled her head to the side as she heard them come in. Her eyes were glassy as she gave a small smile at Draculaura. “Lala…”

Laura hurried over to her and grasped her hand. There was dried blood in the cracks of Clawdeen’s fingers and her fur. She looked down as she felt someone trying to push past her, lifting her arm to see Barker wriggle out from under her. He looked up at Clawdeen with an expression of regret.

“Deenie, are you going to be okay?” he asked, his eyes wide with fear.

Clawdeen turned to him and gave him a small, pained smile as she cupped his cheek.

“Yeah,” she answered hoarsely, “I’m okay.”

Barker only looked more distressed. His eyes filled with tears as his lip began to quiver.

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” he said in a weak voice, “I didn’t know that that would happen when you went out to look for my toy.”

He bowed his head as if ashamed. His shoulders bounced up and down as he began sobbing again. Clawdeen’s brows furrowed in concern. She looked up at her parents, unsure of what to do.

Harriet calmly went around the table and bent down to pick Barker up, lifting him into her arms as she tried to calm the sniveling pup. Barker wrapped his arms around her neck and cried. All of them watched the scene, equally saddened by his reaction. Clawrk held his arms out and took the twins from Nino; the rest of the sextuplets gathered around his legs, eager to be comforted by their father.

Draculaura turned back to Clawdeen. She asked, “Surgery?”

Clawdeen shook her head, “Stitches. Fifty-three of them. M-Mr. Stein gave me some ketamine to help me relax when he did it. He put some numbing gel on it, but…”

She tried to adjust her position and winced. “It hurts…”

Clawrk reached up and rubbed her shoulder in comfort.

A knock alerted everyone to the doorway. Standing there were two cryptid men baring police badges. Draculaura recognized them as the same detectives who were at the Wolf house the night Clawd was reported missing.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wolf?” Detective Grindylow inquired.

Clawrk nodded stiffly, “Detective.”

Draculaura and all them parted to the sides to allow them into the small room. She watched as Clawrk shook hands with them both.

“We heard about what happened and came over immediately,” Grindylow explained, “We were wondering if the kids would be up for telling us what they know.”

He glanced down, his jaw tightening at the sight of Clawdeen on the table. She looked back up at him, her bright yellow eyes tired and scared. 

“That is, if they’re feeling up to it,” he added.

“Our doctor gave her a sedative earlier,” Harriet explained as she rocked Barker back and forth, “She may need time to sleep it off.”

“I can talk,” Clawdeen insisted, “I-I think I can. I just need to…”

She attempted to sit up, only to pause with a hiss. Clawrk and Draculaura helped get into a more comfortable position as Grindylow pulled out his notepad.

“Okay, Clawdeen,” he directed, “Start from the beginning. Did you get a glimpse at your attacker at all?”

“Um, kinda. It was a guy, I could tell that much from his voice,” Clawdeen said, “I…I didn’t see what he looked like, though. He was wearing a costume.”

Grindylow and Firth shared a look. Grindylow nodded, “What kind of costume?”

Clawdeen made a face. She shuttered at the memory of the masked man- the way his all black attire made him blend into the shadows, save for the creepy mask.

“It was, uh, black,” she said, “And…he had a mask in the shape of a bird. Like, it was long and white with a giant beak.”

She frowned, realizing she had recognized that mask from somewhere. “It was like, not a Venetian mask, but one of those ones that people wore during the plague. You know, the ones where they stuffed them full of flowers and stuff to not get sick?”

Draculaura raised a brow. “You mean, like a plague doctor?”

Clawdeen nodded, “Yeah, t-that’s what he was wearing. I was outside the fence of the backyard to get Barker’s toy, when he…he just _appeared_, out of nowhere. I didn’t hear him come up or smell him or anything. It was…it was like he teleported.”

She trailed off, her body going stiff at the memory of seeing his tall figure behind her. She rubbed the area under her chin from where he had hit her. Draculaura, sensing her distress, put a hand over hers.

“H-He hit me and dragged me into the woods,” she continued, “He threw me against a tree and then he pinned me down and…”

Her cheeks burned red, “He…he started touching me…”

Grindylow sucked in a sharp breath. He heard a low growl and glanced up over his reading glasses to see Clawrk baring his teeth in a snarl and balling his fists.

“He started teasing me about Clawd and Rom,” the brown wolf continued, a bitter edge to her words, “And then he…he did this. He said it was supposed to be a ‘reminder.’”

She dropped her shoulders. “And then he left.”

“Did you see what direction he went off to?” Grindylow asked, “If he went into the woods or near the streets or anything?”

She shook her head at him. He turned to her brothers.

“Did you guys see anything at all?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Don answered.

Grindylow clenched his jaw. Great. Another incident and yet still no clues. Considering the spider and werecat girls, he highly doubted it was a change in modus operandi.

Which could only mean the cocky son of a bitch was playing games with them- clearly, he was enjoying the lack of progress they were making and was probably starting to see just how up close and personal he could get. Grindylow didn’t think he could hate a person he’d never even seen so much.

Sighing, he turned back to the pair of werewolves. “Thank you, Clawdeen, you’ve been a wonderful help. I’m very sorry this happened to you, and I promise we are doing all we can to find the man responsible for this and your brother.”

It sounded like such a cop-out answer and he knew it. But unless the perp had left any physical evidence from himself or left anything that could be traced, there was little else he could do.

_And that’s exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it, you fucker? _He cursed the perpetrator in his head.

“I’ll have a patrol car sent to monitor your house and patrol the neighborhood once you all get home,” Firth said to the parents, “If he’s gone after her when he’s already got her brother, that may be a sign he’s starting to target families of the other victim’s.”

“Oh, _that’s _reassuring,” Grindylow heard one of the boys in the room mutter.

“Howie,” Clawrk said in a warning tone.

Firth gave no indication of being bothered by it. He just slid his notepad back into the pocket of his trousers and held his hand out for Clawrk to shake.

“Again, we’re very sorry for your family to go through this, Mr. Wolf,” he said, before he glanced down at Clawdeen, “I wish you the best of recoveries, Clawdeen.”

“T-Thank you,” the teen wolf said.

He regarded the rest of the family and the two vampires with a curt nod. They all stared back at him blankly.

As they walked through the halls towards the front entrance, Firth commented beside him, “He’s toying with us.”

“You think?” Grindylow muttered, “First the fucking guy’s ballsy enough to leave the notes at the precinct and now he’s just going around being slash-fucking-happy. Not even four hours after his latest capture. I don’t know if this is him planting a trail of breadcrumbs for his next big thing or if he’s just showing off by this point.”

He shook his head in disgust. He didn’t want to know the answer to that question. It was frustrating, this whole case- never in all his decades had Grindylow encountered something like this. By all means- the methods, the timing of the kidnappings, his gaudy fucking costume- the guy should’ve been a sloppy killer, an easy catch in the bucket, and yet somehow through his impossible powers, he managed to slip through their fingers.

Fuck, he really needed a cigarette.

“Let’s get back,” he told Firth tiredly. The cyborg nodded. They silently walked through the automatic double doors and out into the chilly night as they made their way to where he had parked.

* * *

Silvi shivered in the cold. It had to be at least only about twenty or so degrees out- the bitter wind blasted through her pelt and bit at her skin like a swarm of venomous spiders. The wet grass and mud numbed her toes within minutes and clung to her skin, sending waves of goosebumps up her ankles.

Clad in only her bra and panties, she had zero protection from the freezing winds. She would’ve crossed her arms to try and provide some heat, but _he _had said to keep her arms at her sides at all times, and the knife point between her shoulder blades easily let her know he wasn’t in the mood for defiance.

“Keep walking,” the masked man commanded, his deep voice sending a fresh wave of chills down her spine that weren’t due to the cold.

Silvi whimpered. It was hard for her to even stand- her right leg screamed with pain from where he had shattered her kneecap, and the smallest bit of weight on it made her mind go white with complete agony- but she did as she was told. Shakily, she put one foot in front of the other, hearing the small squish of soft earth between her toes.

She didn’t know where she was. Just earlier- she had since lost track of time, but from her guess, it had been an hour or so- she was in the dank, dark room she’d been stuck in for what felt like eternity, before the masked man came by like he always did.

Unlike what he had been doing, he didn’t start his usual round of torture. Instead, he told her they were going on an ‘adventure’. He had blindfolded her, before, to Silvi’s shock, he had released her restraints.

Before he did, he threatened that if she tried to attack him, he would immediately cuff her back up again- this time, though, he would also fly one of her fingers from tip to palm. Silvi didn’t have the energy to fight back even if she wanted to.

Once she was blinded and released- it was a mystery as to how her legs didn’t immediately crumple under her from the horrendous pain in her knee and the overall weakness of her muscles- he had grabbed hold of her arm. Something strange had occurred, and she had felt butterflies in her stomach from faint sensation of falling, before the earthy scent of forest had hit her. The masked man had then made her walk ahead, pressing a knife against her back to dissuade her from trying to escape.

Trembling from the air and her own fear, Silvi swallowed hard. Her throat was raw and dry; she desperately wished for some water.

Time had quickly become a blur to her. She had lost track after the first few attempts of trying to count. Minutes easily bled into hours before she knew it and days felt like mere seconds. Not even the faint prickling of skin or rush of adrenaline that was familiar with the occurrence of a full moon was enough to let her grasp how long she’d been in the masked man’s grasp, as both also came to her as a side effect of the pain.

All the grey she-wolf did know, was that the moment she had woken up in that strange room, her arms handcuffed and tied above her head and her clothes stripped from her, leaving her in her undergarments, was pain. In that little prison of concrete and steel, the presence of the masked man guaranteed nothing but pain.

He had tortured her relentlessly. From the moment he walked into the room to the moment he walked out, he utilized several different ways to make the Rottish werewolf scream bloody murder and beg Fenrir to kill her. All the while, he asked strange, nonsensical questions that Silvi couldn’t even begin to comprehend in the white haze of anguish that would overtake all of her senses in those moments.

He kept going on about how it was to test her “instinct”- an experiment, he said this was. A means to see how “connected” to her roots she was still was, or if she lost “lost” it somehow by her kind mingling among the humans too long. Silvi didn’t know what any of it meant, only that it forced to experience pain that she had never thought imaginable.

Her face was tacky with dried blood from where a cut had opened up on her forehead. There was a great big gash near her elbow that made her arm feel limp like it was about to fall off. Her shoulder bled from four parallel claw marks had been ripped into her delicate flesh. Deep, curved lacerations made a sickening pattern of hills on her upper back, while her chest stung with jagged, vertical gouges ran down the entire length of her chest and belly. The former inflicted by a sickle, the latter from where he’d cut her with a broken bottle. They stung from the salt of her sweat; some had begun to scab, only to be ripped open again by her restless movements and cause a fresh trickle of blood to run into her fur.

Lack of food and water made her stomach and calves cramp with such intensity it felt like they were trying to rip themselves in half. Her own stench made her gag with disgust.

Her ears suddenly alerted her to the distant sound of running water. As the masked man pushed her forward further, it got louder, before it was practically roaring underneath her.

She froze up as she felt the masked man lean forward. The menacing bird beak of his mask was cold against her cheek.

“I’m going to let you go now,” he hissed, “You are to keep your eyes forward when I take your blindfold off. If you even so much as turn your head an inch, I’ll bring you right back.”

“W-W-Why?” Silvi finally found the courage to ask, “W-What ur ye gonnae do tae me?”

“I told you, I’m letting you go,” the masked man replied, “As long as you keep your eyes forward. Got it?”

Frantically, she nodded. Wordlessly, he reached up and started to undo the knot at the back of her head.

The sounds of rushing water were nearly deafening, but all Silvi could hear was the roaring of blood in her ears as her heart beat with the force of a drum.

He took the knife away from her back and lowered it to her leg. With a rapid jerk of his arm, he slashed her inner thigh. Silvi withheld a cry at the immediate sting and felt a warm torrent of blood cascade down her leg.

“You might want to hurry,” the masked man muttered, “If I managed to hit your artery, you’ll be dead within seconds.

Without another word, he ripped the blindfold off and shoved her forward.

Something cold bashed into her stomach, before her feet suddenly lifted off the ground and she felt herself somersaulting through open air.

Silvi yelped in alarm. She had just enough time to open her eyes and see the current of the river before she hit the water with a hard splash.

The ice-cold temperature pulled the air straight from her lungs and the force pulled her straight under. For a moment, Silvi felt frozen in time, too shocked to move. Panic quickly snapped her out of her astonishment, and she thrashed violently, fighting against the force of the river as she pulled herself to the surface. Her blood form thin red wisps as it diluted in the water.

She gasped loudly as her head managed to get above water. She looked around, seeing trees and highway barriers pass by in seconds as the river pushed her downstream.

Quickly approaching from the left, she caught sight of a mass of rocks that led to a small hill leading up to the road. Using all her might, her body completely numb, Silvi propelled herself to the left to try and get closer to them.

Partly swimming with the current and partly against it, she leaped forward with the little strength she had remaining and grabbed onto the nearest rock with both hands just as it passed by. Gulping for air, she pulled herself onto the rock. The rough stone scraped at her stomach and thighs, but in her soaked state, she didn’t feel a thing.

She lay there on her stomach for a few minutes, trying to catch her breath. Her hair clung her to back and shoulders in matted strings like seaweed. Silvi lifted her head. She shivered violently as she looked around, her light blue eyes darting frantically for any sign of the masked man.

He was nowhere to be found. He was gone.

She was free.

Silvi looked up at the slight hill up ahead. She looked behind her; her legs were frozen stiff. She wiggled her toes- they moved, but she couldn’t feel a thing. The wound on her thigh was open wide and gushing blood.

Slowly, she dragged herself along the ground, using her elbows to pull herself forward. They were scraped and bleeding within seconds, but Silvi ignored the pain. All she could focus on was trying to get away and get help. She knew if she didn’t get shelter soon, she’d freeze to death.

Silvi paused as she picked up on the sound of voices. They were coming from a few feet away and were mixed in with hard footsteps on asphalt. It sounded like a couple of joggers. A man and a woman.

Heart leaping into her throat, Silvi lifted her head.

She had screamed so much lately that at first, her voice was too weak to gather up much volume. As she heard the voices come closer, desperation took ahold of her, and hoarsely, she finally managed to shout.

“H-H-Help!” she wailed from below, “Help, somebody!”

The footsteps stopped. On the road, she heard someone.

“Did you hear that?” the female voice asked, “It sounded really close.”

“HELP!” Silvi screamed again, tears coming to her eyes, “Someone, please! Anybody, please help me!”

Someone peered over the top of the hill. Her clothing was covered in reflective tape. Silvi heard her gasp.

“Oh my god, Pawtrick! There’s a ghoul down there!” the woman exclaimed, pointing.

A second head popped up next to hers. The man went wide-eyed as he caught sight of Silvi’s face.

“Call an ambulance,” she heard him order, before he threw his leg over the guardrail and grabbed the branch of a nearby tree.

“Don’t worry, lass!” Silvi heard him call down to her, “We’ll be right there!”

Silvi fell back, her heart swelling with relief as she heard the woman dial 911 on her phone and the man started climbing down the hill to reach her. Her elbows finally gave out and collapsed onto her cheek, her body yearning for her to just curl up in a blanket and rest.

Everything was cold and hurting and it had felt like she had just been chewed up in the jaws of Fenrir and spit out, but she was alive.

She was alive and she was outside and she was free. The smell of the forest was almost foreign after so long in the cramped little space she’d been trapped in. Glancing up at the sky, Silvi could see the moon was currently in its waxing crescent phase.

As the man reached the bottom of the hill and ran towards her, Silvi closed her eyes and allowed herself to cry.


	12. Chapter 11: A Chink in the Armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphic depictions of torture, brief but graphic description of animal cruelty and animal death, and depictions of body horror. I mean it, y'all, things get pretty severe this chapter. Take these notes seriously.

For the second day in a row, Draculaura’s car raced across the highway and weaved between lanes as she navigated her way to the hospital. This time, though, Clawdeen was the one to accompany her, the werewolf looking eager and nervous as she sat up in her seat, her hands fidgeting where she rested them in her lap.

It was good that it was the weekend, as neither one of them were really in the state of mind to go to school and pay attention to something other than the news they had just received. The minute they had gotten filled in, they each burst out of their houses to meet up and get to the hospital.

The morning hadn’t started off on the best of moods. Something that, sadly, was starting to become a common occurrence- they had both awaken to notices on their phones that The Ghostly Gossip had posted an update about the missing persons case.

_3 New Confirmed Missing: Wydowna Spider, Meowlody Catterson, Purrsephone Catterson_

Clawdeen had just buried her head in her pillow and had groaned in frustration as she read the alert. Draculaura called her a few minutes later.

“Every damn day, it’s something new. Like it’s advent calendar or goddamn shooting for fish in a barrel,” Clawdeen ranted, “What the hell is this guy planning, just going through the whole fucking school until there’s nobody left?!”

Before either of them could begin to talk to their families about it or dissect it, however, their phones had pinged with a new alert.

This one, however, was even more shocking than the last one. And for once, it wasn’t reporting that another person had been kidnapped.

_BREAKING: POLICE CONFIRMED MISSING SALEM TEEN FOUND_

_Late this morning, at 8:45 am, New Salem Sheriff Ulysses Effo held a conference to the public, in which he has stated that one of New Salem’s missing monster teens has been confirmed to have been found alive. Silvi Timberwolf was said to have been checked in to New Salem General at 2:24 am this morning, after a pair of bystanders had called in to report finding the teen in serious condition near Pringle Creek off Highway 24. _

_Silvi was reported missing in late October, seemingly taken from her yard while performing chores. Sheriff Effo has said that while her injuries are serious, she is in stable condition and responsive. _

They both had to re-read the tagline several times, and even opened up Spectra’s blog to make sure they had read that right, unable to believe what they were seeing.

The minute it sunk in that this wasn’t a clickbait headline, they both darted out of bed and hurriedly got dressed. Clawdeen hadn’t even bothered to lace up her shoes all the way before she bolted out of her house and ran through the neighborhood to Draculaura’s house, the latter meeting her halfway to pick her up in her car.

Now, they sat in Laura’s car as the vampire drove them to the same place they had just left not eight hours ago.

Laura jerked as she pulled into the entrance and drove around the parking lot. The second they saw a spot, she rammed on the gas and claimed it for them. Another car, clearly planning on getting it, honked at them as they drove by and gave them the finger, but neither of them paid attention.

They ran across the lot and through the double doors of the hospital.

“Lala! Clawdeen!”

They both turned to see Cleo, Deuce, Ghoulia, and Slow Moe rushing towards them. In an act that was totally unlike her that caught Clawdeen by surprise, Cleo lunged towards her and threw her arms around her neck, wrapping her up in a tight hug. Her eyes were wide and scared as she pulled back.

“By Ra, are you okay?” Cleo asked, “We heard what happened, I was so worried!”

Clawdeen nodded, wincing as the mummy’s posture put pressure on her stitches. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay now.”

“_We tried to call you,” _Ghoulia moaned, “_But it kept going to voicemail.” _

“Sorry,” Laura apologized, “I meant to talk to you all later, but my phone died and Clawdeen was too out of it from the pain meds to respond to any texts.”

“Is anyone else here?” Clawdeen asked, looking around.

Deuce shook his head, “Just us four. We were about to ask the receptionist when we saw you.”

“Hey, ghouls! Over here!”

They all turned to see Frankie waving her arms as she ran up to them, her purse swinging wildly around her arm. Her eyes widened as she saw Clawdeen and she veered off to the side slightly to hug the werewolf.

“My mom gave me a ride as soon as I told her,” she said, “Come on.”

They headed over to the receptionist and asked her for Silvi’s room number. However, unlike Laura’s experience last night, she only grimaced at them when they told her the name.

“I’m afraid I cannot give that information,” she said.

Their faces all fell. Laura asked, “What? Why?! We’re her friends!”

“I’m sorry, but that’s the orders I’ve been given,” the receptionist explained, “Unless you can show any verification of being immediately family, it’s confidential.”

“Please?” Clawdeen begged, “We…we haven’t seen her in a while, and a lot of bad stuff has happened then, and we just want to make sure she’s okay.”

The receptionist didn’t respond. She looked at all of them, taking in their crestfallen faces. She recognized the stitched together girl as the Steins’ daughter, and the vampire had just been here last night. Considering the news she watched every night, it didn’t take much for her to piece together what “bad stuff” the werewolf was talking about.

She bit her lip, conflicted. Finally, she sighed.

“I shouldn’t technically be telling you this,” she said, “The cops put the order in place so we don’t have to deal with a bunch of nosy journalists storming the wings. But…you seem harmless enough.”

The keys of her computer clacked and she glanced at the screen.

“Room 4-2G,” she said.

The group nodded and gave her various comments of thanks as they headed for that location.

The ghouls’ heels clacked like hooves against the hard tile of the floor as the group rushed through the halls and made their way to the elevator. Their heads turned left and right frantically as they got off the fourth floor and tried to find the signs that would lead them to the right wing.

“There!” Draculaura exclaimed. They followed where she was pointing to see a hospital room that had the number the secretary gave them on the side. The door was open.

Frankie was the first one to enter the room, as she slowly leaned her head in to make sure they had the right room.

Her heart simultaneously swelled and cracked at the sight of Silvi, thin but very much alive, sitting up in the hospital bed, smiling softly as she conversed. Her right leg was in a cast that went down to her ankle and was propped up by some pillows. Her hair had been redone in its usual ponytail, though the signature blue dye had long since faded and fallen out, leaving her long locks in their natural dark silver color. Ari sat at her bedside, holding her hand as she smiled and talked softly to the werewolf.

Slowly, Frankie pushed off the doorframe and slowly started to enter to the room, the others following in after her. Ari and Silvi looked up, both of their faces lighting up at the sight of their friends.

“Thar are some faces I’ve been missin’ tae see again,” the silver wolf commented.

The ghouls all ran for her (or in Ghoulia’s case, limp slightly faster), gathering around her bed side to hug her.

“We were so worried!” Laura exclaimed, already crying as she wrapped her arms around Silvi’s neck, “I-I was so s-s-scared it was the worst!”

“A-A-After everything that’s happened, when I saw Spectra’s notice, I thought for sure it was…” Frankie trailed off, her voice cracking as she grew unable to finish. Small little sparks were coming off her bolts.

Silvi hugged each and every one of them tightly, wiping at her own eyes as she gave them all a grateful smile.

“I know,” she said, “I was scared tay. It’s been sae long since I’ve had contact with another living being…”

She trailed off and glanced down at her lap, a sudden panicked look in her eye. Ari furrowed her brows in concern and leaned forward to take her hand again, her other one coming up to rest on Silvi’s back. Everyone else quieted, both worried about the sudden change in behavior and uneasy at the implication. No one wanted to think of the circumstances that kept the she-wolf from contact with other monsters.

Deuce made the move to change the subject. He glanced down at the cast and asked, “So…how are you doing? In terms of, you know, physically?”

Silvi glanced up at him, before looking back down at her knee. She took her hand away from Ari’s to gently touch it.

“Well, me knee’s all busted up,” she explained, “Needed tae hae pins an’ boorichie ay wee wires put in. The doctor says it shood heal just braw as long as I don’t mess wit’ it. It’s more the cuts they’re fashed about.”

She pushed the blankets back and lifted up her gown to just above where her cast ended. They could all see a thing of gauze wrapped around her thigh under it.

“They say he cut right ben me sartorious muscle and nicked my femoral nerve,” she said with a sigh, “They can dae some wee tests, but until me cast is off, they willnae ken if there’s been any permanent nerve damage. Though they said it didne swatch much worse then me other injuries.”

She reached up and clasped her shoulder as she said it. They could see a patch of gauze and medical tape just peeping out from under her collar. Her left arm also had a thing of gauze wrapped around it near her elbow. Nobody said anything, all of them just watching her and feeling unsure as to what to do.

Silvi perked up, though, and wiped at her eyes, before giving them a slightly strained smile.

“Which is why ah was hoping fur some company,” she said, turning to Ari with a loving look in her eye, “Especially frae this lassie.”

Ari smiled and kissed her cheek. She turned to the group, “I was over here as soon as I saw the news. I wasn’t about to wait a single second.”

“How did you get over here so fast?” Clawdeen asked.

Ari gave her a deadpan look and held up her hand, allowing her to see the transparency of her complexion, before she silently phased it through the mattress. Clawdeen nodded, feeling stupid at asking the question.

“Ah, of course,” she said.

“The anesthesia wasn’t even fully worn off yit when she got here,” Silvi said with a chuckle, “I woke up and saw her standing there and I thought fur a second she really was just a figment of me imagination.”

“_I thought they only allow family members in the recovery room?” _Slow Moe moaned.

“Considering the circumstances, I think they realized they could give a bit of lee way,” Ari shrugged, “I’m not even solid. They couldn’t have stopped me if they wanted to.”

They all shared a small laugh at the thought. From outside, they could suddenly hear the squeaking sound of rubber soles on the floor. They all turned right in time to see Venus and Raythe burst into the room. Venus gasped and brought her hands to her mouth as they landed on Silvi.

Deuce and Cleo stepped out of the way to give her room as she ran for Silvi and hugged her tightly.

“I was so scared,” she whispered, her shoulders shaking with the threat of tears.

“I know,” Silvi said softly, rubbing her back.

She glanced up from over Venus’s shoulder and smiled up at Raythe. He gave her a watery grin and took Venus’s place as the plant monster pulled away.

“I’ll be honest, when I first got Spectra’s notice, I thought it was her getting her facts wrong again. I was about ready to call her and tear her a new one,” Venus said as she wiped her nose with her sleeve, “After all the bad shit we just keep getting, it was almost too good to believe that finally some good news has come out of all of this.”

“I know,” Draculaura agreed, “I had to make sure I wasn’t still half asleep when I read it.”

“What do you mean, ‘bad shit you keep getting?’” Silvi asked, “What’s happened?”

They all went silent. She glanced around, confused.

As she caught their eyes, each one of them made a habit to look away, like they were ashamed of something. Silvi’s smile slowly fell into a frown. Her brows knitted in worry. She felt something twist up inside her, a gut feeling that told her that she wouldn’t like what she was about to hear.

She glanced at Ari, who closed her eyes and bowed her head. Silvi’s hands clenched in the sheets.

“W-W-What? What’s going on?” she asked, slightly panicked.

Clawdeen was the one to finally face her. Her expression was grim; Silvi noticed she was rubbing her stomach back and forth, like her finger was feeling something underneath the fabric of her shirt.

“Silvi, are you sure you were the only one…wherever you were?” she asked gravely, “You never saw anyone else by any chance. _He _never…brought anyone by?”

“….No,” Silvi answered slowly, looking more apprehensive, “It was…just me, why? Why are you asking me this? What’s happened?”

She looked around at them frantically, silently pleading with them to tell her. She gave Deuce a desperate look as he sighed and got closer to her and went to take her hand. His jaw was tight, his sunglasses preventing her from reading any emotion that may have been in his eyes.

“You might want to take a deep breath,” he said, “A lot has happened since you've been gone.”

* * *

The masked man stepped back and tilted his head, grinning behind his mask as he observed his latest work. He grabbed a rag from the little bucket he had brought with him and started wiping off the blood on his knife, leaning back against the pile of boxes behind him as he did so and crossing one ankle over the other.

“You’ve held longer than the others, I’ll give you that,” he commented, “Maybe you’re not all entirely hopeless after all.”

He glanced up. On the other side of the room, Romulus glared hatefully at him from where he had been restrained in a wooden chair. Like all the others, he was clad in only his boxers, which were drenched in sweat and blood that leaked from the numerous deep open wounds the masked man had inflicted on him.

His hands and ankles had been restrained to the arms and legs of the chair by restraints made of dragon leather. The stiff material was durable to all elements and was as hard as rock, making it invulnerable to even the sharpest of objects and rendering the silver wolf’s pitiful attempt and biting the cuffs to free himself- the masked man withheld a laugh at that as he had watched from the shadows- useless. Under them, the fur of his wrists was rubbed thin, the skin raw and bloody.

Romulus panted with exertion and his hair fell in a matted curtain in front of his face. He was in obvious pain, from the way his hands kept clenching and unclenching and how the masked man could see the slightest hint of a tremble in his stiff shoulders. Right now, though, it was all buried deep under the burning hatred and rage that darkened his green eyes to almost black as he bared his teeth at the masked man.

“Of course, I would expect no less from an alpha wolf,” the masked man said, “What kind of leader would you be if you were to crumble at the smallest little cut or broken bone? You’d be leading your packmates to certain death for your enemies if they were to see such a behavior?”

“Go to hell,” Romulus spat, ending his words on a snarl for emphasis. He bent forward, his chest almost touching his knees, like he yearned to pounce on the black-clad man.

The masked man tilted his head at him and scoffed.

“I’ve already been there, actually,” he said jokingly.

He finished cleaning his knife and held it up to the light. It had grown quite dull over the past few weeks. He could see little nicks appearing along the blade from where it had caught onto things and chipped.

Shrugging, the masked man put it back in his holster and made a mental note to sharpen it later. Instead, now, he reached into the satchel at his belt and pulled out a small object, holding it in his hand as he approached Romulus. The silver wolf glowered at him, his muscles stiff to the point the masked man could see his veins bulging beneath his skin.

The masked man stopped right before him and took a moment to give a second look over at what he had inflicted on him. Deep, parallel gashes of varying length ran down the surface of Romulus’s chest; some were short, while others extended from his pectorals all the way to his lower ribs. Similar x-shaped gouges had been cut into his stomach and abs, all of which bled heavily and coated the front of his boxers in bright red. There was a set of vertical ones running up the underside of his left triceps, as well as a C-shaped cut carved deep into his right knee, the latter being from a moment where he had nearly bitten the masked man’s finger off when the latter got too close and the masked man lost his temper and jammed the knife almost right into his patella.

He held up the object in his hand. Romulus glanced between it and him; his jaw was tight as he jutted his chin out, trying to retain the alpha confidence he was known for.

The masked man pressed a button on the side of it and a knife popped out from the top, revealing it to be a switchblade. Romulus gave only the barest flinch in his eyelid.

Reaching up with a gloved hand, the masked man grasped him by the chin and forced his head to tilt up. Romulus grunted and tried to shake him off, only for the masked man to tighten his hold, his fingernails digging into his skin painfully.

Romulus fixed his best glare upon him, his nose scrunching up in a sneer. The masked man tilted his head, observing his features: Eyes a bold shade of green, an upturned nose. Sharp cheekbones that supported a strong, angular jaw.

Silently, he brought the switchblade to Romulus’s face and pressed the edge to his cheek, before he slowly began to drag it down and cut into his flesh.

Romulus clamped his eyes shut and tensed up. He gritted his teeth and let out a whine as the masked man dragged the knife in a perpendicular direction. Blood poured down to his chin in rivulets of red and dripped onto his sternum. 

The masked man pulled the knife away. A large cut spanning from the top of Romulus’s cheekbone down to just above his jawline shone bright ruby in the dim light.

Romulus panted from the pain. He popped open one eye, peering out at the masked man with a defiant scowl. The masked man stared back for a minute, before he raised the knife again and forced his head to turn to the other side, this time cutting into the skin of his right temple.

“Ergh!” he grunted as the masked man cut a neat line straight from his hairline to his browbone, the edge going through his eyebrow, before he cut a diagonal line on top of it, leaving an X-shaped gash in his wake.

Satisfied, he let his chin go. Romulus ripped himself away and bowed his head as he gasped, overwhelmed by the pain that overtook his face.

Still, he did not hesitate to slowly lift his head and give the masked man a low growl. His right eye was forced to close as blood ran down the side of his face and soaked his fur.

“I must say, I’m impressed,” the masked man revealed, “By now, most of them would have been begging me to stop or just crying. But you, you’ve just been mad at me. That’s good; a true predator never cowers to his enemy but fights for his territory.

“I wonder if your little ghoulfriend has the same fight,” he added, a lustful drawl to his lips, “She certainly seems like a truly feral bitch, that one. I would hope she’s as feisty as she looks.”

The mention of Clawdeen made Romulus bristle. His head shot up and he fixed the masked man with a murderous glare, his hackles pin straight and a violent snarl of utter loathing working its way up his throat.

“You lay one hand on her and I swear to God, I will rip you in fucking half,” he threatened, his words laced with angry growls that made him sound more beast than man in that moment.

The masked man just smirked from under his mask. His hand shot out and grabbed a handful of Romulus’s hair. He yanked it upward, causing the teen to yell out in pain as the force threatened to rip the locks right from his scalp.

“I already did,” the masked man teased cruelly as he jerked the werewolf’s head from side to side, “I wanted to get a piece of that sweet ass myself. She’s cute- I was halfway tempted to just fuck her right there in the woods once I got her all alone.”

He let go and stepped to Romulus’s side. He took the switch blade and reached down to place it on the underside of his ribs.

“I touched her in all her sweet spots,” he said as he dragged it along his side, earning a harsh scream from Romulus, “And then I cut her just like this…”

He made another cut under the first one, and then another one under that, creating a set of gashes that ran horizontally between his ribs from his side to just right around his back. Romulus threw his head back and yelled out in pain, grasping the arms of the chair for dear life. To his credit, though, he didn’t thrash around or stomp his feet.

“I cut your friends, too,” the masked man added, slicing perpendicular gashes across the tops of both his thighs, “Like this.”

“And like this.” Another X-shape on his stomach.

“And this.” He cleaved through Romulus’s right nostril and dragged the blade to right under the middle of his eyelid.

“And this.” Another set of vertical lines going down his upper chest.

“GOD! F-F-Fuck!” Romulus cursed, gritting his teeth through the waves of torture that flooded his body. It felt like all his muscles were being ripped apart one by one.

“I offered to bring her here, so you two could be together, like your big grey friend and his mate,” the masked man teased, “That way we can both revel in how she screams.”

“Fuck you!” Romulus snapped at him, his eyes dark against his bloody face.

He was a promising one, the masked man thought. Whereas the others cried and screamed and begged him to let them go or just kill them already, this boy only spit in his face and continued with his empty threats of retaliation.

Perhaps this who he was looking for. Finally, someone had not fully deluded themselves into thinking they could ever truly be on par with the humans or that they could live peacefully masquerading as something as pitiful as “men”.

“You’ve managed to surpass my expectations so far,” he said, “Certainly more than your friends. It didn’t take long for the Wolf kid to start pissing himself like a newborn pup, and even the grey one was blubbering once I started in on his little mate. It’s disgusting, just how _human _they act after only a few scrapes and bruises?”

Romulus paused. He temporarily forgot about how much his side and legs hurt to look up at the masked man. His eyes went wide with wariness.

“Where are they?” he demanded, “You better not have hurt them.”

The masked man ignored him. He had his head turned towards the wall, like he was staring at it in thought.

“Of course, though, we’ve only really looked at one type of scenario,” he said, “Wolves always lick their wounds and then get back up and start hunting again. Sores can bleed, but they eventually heal.

“No, we’re not considering the full picture here,” he explained, “We have to also consider other incidents. How would your ancestors fare in terms of disease? Internal bleeding? Concussions? After all, there was no modern medicine, they had no knowledge of bandages or washing injuries, they had to make do with only their instincts and the forest around them.”

He went behind Romulus to the wall, where he had placed a box of objects he had carried in. A wooden handle stuck out of it that he grabbed.

“What in the fucking hell are you talking about?!” Romulus questioned, craning his neck to look at him over his shoulder, “What the hell is wrong with you? What do you want?!”

“There’s always other types of pain out there,” the masked man replied as he heard him come back around, “You have to be ready for _anything_. Even the most unlikely, improbable, borderline impossible scenarios.”

Romulus leaned away from him, slightly nervous at what he was planning on doing as he caught sight of a sledgehammer in the masked man’s hand.

The masked man looked down at the werewolf’s hands. He lightly touched the back of his knuckles, making Romulus jump slightly at the contact.

“You have long fingers,” he said in observation as he held Rom’s hand, straightening out the digits to get a better look at them. They flexed in discomfort from his touch.

“Oregon has a lot of mountains,” he added at random, “Would be a shame if some poor wolf were navigating them and he happened to put his paw wrong and fall off a cliff. He could get hurt in a lot of ways if that happened. Ways like this…”

With no warning, he suddenly raised the sledgehammer and slammed it down with his full strength against the back of Romulus’s right hand.

“GAH!” Romulus howled.

A glove of excruciating pain enveloped his hand as he felt every bone in his hand immediately shatter. The masked man raised the sledgehammer and brought it down again; Romulus screamed louder as the pain grew even worse; his ears picked up on a sickening crunch sound as the fractures were further aggravated and his middle and index phalanges snapped like pencils.

He bent over and screamed through gritted teeth at the pain. He didn’t dare move any part of his hand as he kept his fingers splayed out straight like rods.

The masked man just tossed the sledgehammer away and went back to the box he had got it from. He grabbed a brown glass bottle filled with some grainy material and turned back to him.

“Of course, clumsiness and natural disasters aren’t the only thing to worry about,” he told Romulus as he unscrewed the cap, “I heard your pack was involved in fighting a monster hunter a few years back. Not good- that means he knows all your weaknesses. You need to be extra alert around someone like that.”

He looked down at Rom’s hand. Within only a few minutes, it had swelled severely and had taken on a bright red tinge. His fingers were trembling rapidly.

“That looks like it hurts,” he said, tilting the bottle over, “Here, let me help you with that.”

He dumped a handful of the bottle’s contents onto Romulus’s hand. Still in pain over his broken bones, Romulus didn’t react to the material at first.

He jerked, however, as a brand-new kind of pain overtook his hand and his skin suddenly felt like it was on fire.

“A-Aagh- AGH!” he yelled out as he thrashed in the chair. The broken bones and cuts in his skin was already unbearable, but now- as his skin felt like it was being slowly eaten away at- it was a sensation that may as well have tossed him into a volcano.

The restraints didn’t budge an inch as he kicked and flailed. Tears blurred his vision as Romulus opened them and looked down at his hand. White sugar-looking crystals coated the entire back of his hand from his knuckles to the back of his wrist. To his horror, he could see the edges of his skin turning black under the strange material and begin to peel and bleed.

“W-W-W-What the fuck d-did you pour on me?!” he questioned, watching how his hand shook even harder now. He bit his lip as a wave of pain ran up the length of his arm, letting out a pained moan.

“Just some silver nitrate is all,” the masked man said nonchalantly, holding up the bottle for him to see the label, “Like I said, a true predator should be ready for anything.”

Romulus grit his teeth and stared down at his hand. His whole body tensed at the pain- he could feel the rest of his arm reacting to the silver. It felt like someone holding a lit blowtorch to it. He hissed in pain again and crouched over, unable to do anything else but shout out his agony.

The masked man put the bottle on the floor. He continued watching the teen wolf fidget and writhe from the burn that surely must have hurt dearly. The gaping wounds in his face, chest, and thighs had bled so much that his whole pelt was almost entirely drenched in red; he looked more like a red wolf now than a grey one.

He still wasn’t crying, though, the masked man acknowledged. There was a chance he’d probably do it once he left, but at least the kid had enough dignity to hold it in until he was alone.

“Well, I’d love to stay longer, but I have some other matters I need to attend to,” the masked man said, “I’ll leave you for now. I’ll make sure to tell your friends about your persistence; they should follow in your example. They’re rather pitiful with how they’ve reacted- they’re more fitting as omegas an alphas.”

“P-P-Please,” Romulus said, his tone much calmer and passive than earlier, “P-Please don’t hurt them. You can do whatever you want to me, but Clawdeen and them, please j-just leave them alone.”

The masked man paused. A deep frown worked its way onto his face under his mask.

“Don’t start begging now,” he said disapprovingly, “You’re supposed to be a fearless leader who bows to no threat. Act like it.”

Romulus glared up at him. Now, though, there was a lot more desperation in it.

“Why?” he questioned, “What the hell do you want from me?! Why me?!”

The masked man didn’t answer. He just stared at him, whatever lay behind his glass lens hidden by the shade of his hat. Even so, though, Romulus could practically feel the sickening grin that was bound to be on his face. It made his skin crawl and his stomach churn.

A harsh growl came from deep within his chest as he lunged forward for the masked man; he thrashed in his restraints, the rough welding of his chair legs to the floor making him unable to move even an inch. In his rage, though, Romulus didn’t even seem to care.

“I’ll kill you, I swear to god I will,” he snarled violently, “You _won’t _get away with this.”

The masked man just nodded in amusement.

“Attaboy,” he said, turning to the wall and phasing through it, leaving the distressed werewolf alone with his injuries and his screams.

* * *

_Breathe in…breathe out…stay calm…stay focused…_

Wydowna repeated the mantra in her head as she took a deep breath and let it out. It came out shaky, but she just continued to do so, trying to keep each breathe evenly timed to keep herself calm. She knew letting herself panic would only make her miss easy details. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest.

She looked around the small room, trying to look for anything in reach that could be used to her disposal. She had to tried and be flexible- all her arms had been pulled out to either side of her and tied at the wrists to a pair of poles that had been placed near the walls far away enough for her arms to be stretched out. Her bare feet had been left unrestrained, though.

_Breathe in, breathe out…_Wydowna thought to herself again, trying to keep the panic attack she could feel at the edge of her nerves from overtaking her. She slowly turned her head to look at the rope around her wrists and lightly tugged at it.

It didn’t even budge. The material was rough and scratchy and chaffed her wrists. With shaking fingers, Wydowna rubbed it. It felt strong and durable. She looked at the poles the other ends were tied to.

They looked vaguely like those belonging to the collapsible basketball hoops she sometimes saw in people’s driveways. She maybe could have pulled hard enough to cause one of them to fall over, but heavy paint cans and propane tanks had been stacked on top of their bases to root them to the spot.

She looked at the tops of the poles, which had been sawed off. They had also, somehow, been bent and curled so they roughly resembled knots, like someone with superhuman strength had used them for tying practice. However they came to that condition, however, they had positioned in a way that would keep her from pulled the loops of the ropes up and off.

_Breathe in, breathe out_. Wydowna turned to look in front of her. The only thing greeting her back was the solid steel wall.

The hard concrete made her feet hurt. She shifted to try and relieve the hard pressure under her soles, while trying not to think about the fact that she was wearing little to no clothes besides her undergarments.

Her arms were starting to hurt. She tugged at each of the ropes. Still no give. She tested out how much room she had to walk. She could only go back and forth maybe a centimeter or two at least before the ropes restricted her to the spot.

Sweat started to bead along her forehead. Stray strands of her hair stuck to them and caused her scalp to itch. Wydowna took another breath. _Breathe in, breath out. Stay calm. _

Her feeble attempts all went out the window, however, as she stumbled back with a scream as a dark shape suddenly materialized right in front of her from the wall.

For a second, she thought it was just a figment of her imagination- she hadn’t known how long she was here or whatever effects whatever drugs had knocked her out had- possibly as a result of the head injury she remembered getting before she blacked out or dehydration.

Her heart quickly sunk as she caught sight of something large and white that made up the figure’s face, which was enough to let her know that this wasn’t just some trick of light.

“D-Don’t come any closer,” she warned, “I-I’ll bite you.”

It sounded so pitiful, with how small her voice was and how empty of a threat they both knew it was.

The masked man gave a small chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure you will. Too bad it will only go right through me.”

Wydowna leaned away from him as he came up until he was nearly touching chests with her. She turned her face away, her second and third right eyes staring at him suspiciously. The masked man rested his elbow in his palm and brought his other hand up to grasp the area where his chin would be.

“I’ve never actually met an insect cryptid before,” he stated, “All my life, I’ve grown up around only mammals and humans. I don’t know very much about insect anatomy.”

The glint from the blade in his knife as he pulled it out made Wydowna go pale.

“This should certainly be interesting for the both of us,” he said.

“W-W-Wait,” Wydowna pleaded as he brought it up, “No, wait! Wait-!”

She yelped as he slashed at her upper left forearm. The sting was immediate; the tear in her skin was as red as her hair and stood out against her obsidian complexion. Blood bubbled up in the wound and spilled down onto the floor, splashing against her lower arms.

“Interesting. You have blood. Arthropods normally have hemolymph,” the masked man said as he watched the small puddle of scarlet grow. He looked up at Wydowna.

“So that means you at least have veins and muscle,” he added, “You don’t seem to have an exoskeleton, though. And from the looks of it, your silk glands are on your hands instead of your abdomen.”

He met her eyes. “In other words, your structure is quite _human _for a monster.”

“S-S-So?” Wydowna asked.

He didn’t answer her right away. He reached into the satchel at his waist and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it and turned it around to show her what was displayed on one side, holding the corners between pinched fingers. Wydowna felt tears prick her eyes when she realized it was one of her sketches from her notebook, of her as Webarella in a concept costume.

“This fell out of your bag when I…made my presence known,” the masked man said. He turned the drawing back to himself, “It’s adorable, frankly. You as your own little superhero.”

As if he knew it would add insult to injury, he turned to Wydowna and held the picture out in front of her as he gently ripped the drawing into pieces.

“Well then, little heroine, consider this your latest story arc,” he said with sickening amusement as he moved towards her, the knife back in his hands, “You’ve just been caught by the big bad villain. Now you’re trapped. What ever are you to do?”

Wydowna leaned her head back as he came towards her. She whimpered and grasped all the ropes with her hands, desperately trying to pull at them with the hope that the poles would give.

When they didn’t, she just buried her chin against her collarbone and shut all her eyes, praying that it would go by quickly.

Her prayers went unanswered as he swung the knife and brought her into a world of torment and the only things that registered to Wydowna after that were her own screams.

* * *

Normally, Isi would take fully advantage of a night like this to go on a late night stroll and allow herself to dance along with the moonlight; the sky was a beautiful shade of royal blue, the moon was glowing a brilliant milk white like a polished pearl, and there was surprisingly a surplus of stars that were visible in the sky.

With all circumstances considered, though, right now all it did was make her feel paranoid and skittish as she navigated her way through the wide hallways of her host family’s house. Everyone was out working late tonight, so that left her all alone in the cumbersome homestead.

The layout always made her feel a bit on edge whenever she was home alone, what with the French doors facing the backyard and the potted trees that were set right outside on the back porch always creating the illusion someone was standing right outside and the towering ceilings allowing every little noise to echo through the whole interior. And with all the horror stories in the news, it just made the atmosphere ten times creepier.

Isi had opted to stay in her room the whole time, trying to distract herself with music and homework and only coming out when she wanted to eat or needed to use the bathroom, but even though those helped a little bit, the faintest sound of the house settling made her freeze like she just saw a car’s headlights and her imagination would immediately think of the thousand different ways someone could hide in the house. She had turned on all the lights wherever she went, but it did little to ease her nerves.

She tried not to look at the French doors or the darkened dining room as she made a beeline for the kitchen. Quickly, she washed her dishes in the sink and put them on the drying rack, intent on going right back up to her room to finish her math homework. Just as she turned off the faucet, however, Isi heard a strange noise come from outside.

The deer spirit froze in place, afraid to make any sudden movement on the off chance whatever was making the noise could see her.

The noise came again, though this time it was a lot more pronounced. Isi furrowed her brows in confusion and turned towards the French doors. 

“_Yeeeoowww,” _the noise came again from the other side. It sounded like…a cat?

Isi approached them slowly, her hooves making only the slightest muffled thud on the carpeted floor. She grasped both handles tightly, before she pulled them open, revealing the dark layout of the back deck.

“Meow!”

She looked down. A monster cat sat at her feet, looking up at her with three pairs of bright blue eyes, the corners of its mouth upturned it a smile. Its tail swished about playfully. It stood out like a glowstick in the darkness with its striped fur being a combination of hot pink and yellow.

Isi let out a breath she didn’t even realized she’d been holding. Her shoulders slumped in relief, and she looked down at the cat with a disapproving frown.

“Nekolai,” she scolded, “What are you doing, how did you get out here?”

The cat belonging to her host family only blinked at her, still wagging his tail and smiling like he couldn’t care less. He reached up and pawed at her leg, giving another loud meow.

Rolling her eyes, Isi just stepped aside to let him in. Nekolai got up and trotted past her, looking like a walking strawberry and banana cake roll with how rotund he was. His tail stood up in the air what Isi swore was pompous satisfaction.

She frowned when she realized something was off about him.

“Where’s your collar?” she asked.

Nekolai paused and turned to look at her over his shoulder. Isi swore the look in his eyes was almost arrogant as he turned away and waddled over to his cat bed.

She was about to close the doors and head back to her room, but a little twinkle from somewhere off in the corner caught her eye. She looked out over the deck. From the back near the fence, where her host mother kept her bonsai tree and cacti, Nekolai’s collar danged from a cactus pad.

“There are you are,” Isi commented and stepped out onto the deck to retrieve it.

She walked over to the cactus plant and bent down, being mindful of the spines as she pulled Nekolai’s collar free. She inspected it for a moment to make sure that all the tags were still there, before she turned her gaze to the French doors and started back.

She was about a foot from them when Nekolai dashed back out, running right past her.

“Nekolai!” Isi called, spinning around, “Get back here!”

She held her hands out, one still gripping the collar, and tried to grab a hold of him, but the supernatural cat was simply too fast. Nekolai stopped for only a second before the fence to jump up, and landed for a brief second on its ledge before he darted for the bushes and disappeared into the woods.

Cursing under her breath, Isi ran to the door of the fence and let herself out, swinging it shut behind her and galloping for the direction Nekolai had run to.

“Nekolai!” she shouted, her head turn left and right for a flash of pink and yellow, “Nekolai, get back here!”

The last thing she wanted to do was run along the bike trail at this hour because the smart-ass cat always wanted to go for a stroll but she knew her host family would be worried if Nekolai stayed out all night. Her eyes caught sight of a few pawprints in the shape of a cat’s in the dirt, and slowly followed them into the brush.

“Now where could he have gone?” she questioned to herself.

“Meow! Meo**_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWW!” _**

Isi froze.

“N-N-Nekolai?” she called out.

No answer.

She looked around warily, her footsteps a lot slower. A trickle of fear started to run down her spine.

Thorns from a nearby bushed snagged on her leggings as she took a step backward. Something soft and fuzzy squished underneath her hoof.

Isi glanced down.

Nekolai’s mutilated, bloody corpse lay under her feet, her hoof having stepped right into the remains of his eviscerated thoracic cavity. His disemboweled organs strewn out on the ground around him like candy in a broken pinata.

Isi gasped and scrambled backwards. She landed on her rear and crab-walked back in horror, nausea welling up in her at the sight of the dead cat. She made a noise of disgust and rubbed the sole of her hoof into the dirt, trying to scrub off the gore underneath.

“Oh god, oh god,” she whimpered, feeling the strong urge to hurl.

There was no way that Nekolai could’ve been there. The pained hiss had to have occurred from at least two yards away. Unless that was a completely different animal she heard, she had only moved only a few inches or so between then and now.

She pressed her hands to her mouth, unable to take her eyes off the gruesome sight.

Pinecones and stray acorns cracked and popped on the ground behind her.

Isi threw herself forward and looked over her shoulder, eyes scanning the darkness.

She looked deep into the shadows, her night vision allowing her to make out branches and dead logs that looked menacing when out of the light. There was no sign of any animals anywhere, only a small breeze that caused flower stalks to gently sway to the right-

Her breath hitched. Her gaze was glued to the trunk of a tree on the right.

Isi swore she had seen something move nearby.

Her ears twitched at the sound of something rustling behind her, before something suddenly darted out of sight out of the corner of her ear. Isi’s head snapped that direction; she definitely knew that time that there was something dark moving around.

She got her feet, crouching low like she was trying to hide herself from whatever could be watching her.

Her eyes landed on a large dark mass that stood by a thick oak. Near the ground, she could see something about it fluttering.

Isi’s eyes trailed up to the top, her worst fears confirmed as they met a pair of dark, lifeless eyeholes set in to the white bird mask that stood out against the darkness like the moon.

The masked man was right there, staring at her from only a few feet away.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Isi screamed, turning on the edge of her hoof and bolting into the woods.

She ran blindly, jumping over gnarled roots and snapping branches under her hoofs as she ran into the heart of the forest. There was no way for her to know where she was going, as she was well away from the walking trails. The only thing that kept her going was instinct and the knowledge that she had to get as far away from the bird-faced man as she could.

The forest was the home of her people. Her ancestors had roamed them for generations; it had not failed them when they needed it the most.

Isi could only hope that it would not fail her now.

Her lungs and legs burned from exertion, but her fear far outweighed any discomfort she felt as she continued running. Up ahead, between the trees, Isi could see beams of light shining in the dark, before they quickly disappeared, presumably the headlights of cars driving on the road. 

Only a few feet away, a branch popped and broke. Isi felt her breath itch and pushed herself forward, keeping her eyes glued to what she hoped was the road up ahead.

Her hoof landed right on top of a loose rock that went flying backward. Isi let out a scream of surprise as she felt her feet go right out from under her. She found herself suddenly falling through nothing but air as she ended up stumbling right off the edge of an embankment.

Isi hit the ground below with a hard slam. Her head reared back and screamed as a fist of fire rammed itself into her belly. She rolled onto her back and curled up. Her hands flew to her abdomen, where she could feel wetness and, to her horror, something _sticking out _of her.

The embankment she had fallen from was just high enough that she had ended up impaling herself on the jagged edge of a broken tree branch that was sticking up from the mud. Isi cried out at the insufferable pain that throbbed in her lower abdomen. Her hands hovered around where the branch was jutting out from her skin, feeling her blood as it soaked through the fabric of her

It was a sickening feeling to feel the sharp wood moving around with every pant as it jostled and wriggled from the fat and muscle layers in her stomach, but Isi didn’t dare pull it out; she remembered Neighthan once telling her that as bad as they looked, knives and objects that were responsible for stab wounds also created somewhat of a temporary block around the blood vessels they had cut, and to just rip the object out would only worsen the bleeding.

So she left the branch where it was, even though every breath she took felt like someone was driving it deeper and twisting it, the pain was that great.

Through teary eyes, Isi looked fearfully around the forest.

She didn’t try to get up, not trusting herself to have the strength to stay on her feet and too afraid that the adrenaline would cause her to bleed out before she even made it five feet. But that now meant she was stuck here, alone and injured, while still being followed by the masked man who’d been chasing her.

She was a sitting manman out here. If he found her, there was nothing she could do.

Isi bit her lip, trying to suppress the sobs that built up in her throat. She felt like she had been caught right in the head high beams of a semi-truck that was only a foot away from making her a smear on the pavement.

As she rolled onto her side, she felt something hard pressing against her thigh as her weight came down upon it. It felt flat and boxy. With a sudden surge in emotion, Isi realized it was her phone and dug into her jeans pocket to pull it out.

The screen was cracked from the fall, but that was all the damage there seemed to be. Isi clicked the power button and held it out with both hands.

Two bars. Just enough to have some service. Isi quickly unlocked her phone and rapidly scrolled through her contacts. She pressed her boyfriend’s number and held the phone to her ear, her eyes darting rapidly back and forth.

“Come on, come on…” she begged quietly, praying that it wouldn’t go to voicemail.

* * *

_(A few minutes earlier….) _

Heath walked through the gas station numbly, his mind on autopilot as he strolled through the aisles and grabbed a back of chips, before heading to the fridge section to grab a bottle of grape soda. He kept his gaze forward and head, barely registering what was going on around him. He didn’t even stop to ponder getting any candy or other snacks like he usually would.

He stood behind a few people waiting for his turn at the register. The guy in front of him smelled like he’d been smoking way too much pot and he could feel the old lady in the jumpsuit behind him coughing without covering her mouth, but Heath paid them no mind. He was pretty in his head at the moment, intent on paying and getting back home as soon as possible so he could pig out before another stressful night of homework and probably no sleep.

As the guy in front paid for his cigarettes and left, he walked up to the counter and put his things on the counter. Heath perked up slightly in surprise as he saw the person managing it.

“Oh, hey, Heath,” Neighthan greeted with a small smile, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh…oh h-hey,” Heath greeted, “Since when have you been working here?”

“I just started a few weeks ago,” Neighthan responded as he scanned the barcodes on the bag of chips and the bottle, “I’ve only been working a couple of days a week. My boss says it’s been pretty lax lately, and my parents didn’t feel comfortable with me being away from so late, what with…you know.”

“Yeah,” Heath muttered. He didn’t want to think of what he knew.

Neighthan looked up at him as he rang him up. There were deep bags under Heath’s eyes and his skin had taken on a bit of a sickly tone. He stared blankly at the lottery tickets under the counter and Neighthan could see he was starting to take on a bit of a five o’clock shadow. He looked more like a zombie in the moment that a fire elemental.

Not that Neighthan was surprised nor could blame him for looking so rugged. The permanent cloud of darkness that hung over their town was rough on everyone, but he couldn’t imagine what it could be for someone like Heath, who’d been close to several of the missing like Clawd and Manny, especially considering Abbey was among them and she was his ghoulfriend. He only hoped the fire elemental was taking care of himself.

He tapped in the prices of the snacks and looked back to Heath.

“Eight fifty-four,” he commented.

Heath reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crumbled ten. As Neighthan counted out his change, he commented, “So, you working here all night? Seems a little creepy.”

Neighthan glanced at the clock on the wall, “I’m actually supposed to get off in a few minutes once the skeleton crew comes in. Like I said, business has been kind of slow, so my boss thought everyone would like it better if we just shut it down early for now, until all the commotion finally dies down.”

He went wide-eyed. Him and Heath shared a look, both realizing it was a rather poor choice of words.

“S-S-Sorry,” Neighthan said as he blushed.

“It’s fine,” Heath muttered, “Thanks.”

He grabbed his things and turned away before Neighthan could make another comment. He kept his head down as he went straight for the door and let himself out.

Just as he began to feel bad when he realized that he had been a bit rude, his thoughts quickly turned elsewhere as he collided with a smaller figure; Heath stumbled back as both let out a sound of surprise, perking his head up to see a familiar head of dark hair.

Scarah tripped over her heels, but luckily was able to regain her balance before she fell. Her green painted lips were pulled down into a small frown of displeasure. Her features softened, though, as she realized who she had bumped into.

“Sorry, Heath,” she said, “Clumsy auld me wasn’t watchin’ where I was leadin’.”

Heath shook his head, “No, it was my fault. I was a bit preoccupied.”

Scarah nodded. She glanced down at his front and her eyes widened, before she blushed with embarrassment. Heath, confused, looked down. There was a large brown stain on his sweater from where the banshee’s open bottle of sweet tea had splashed on him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, “I didn’t even realize there was enough left to cause that!”

Heath grabbed the hem of his sweater and held it out, frowning when he saw how big the stain was. _Shit, _he thought. It would take forever to get out; man, and this was his favorite sweater.

“Here, let me help,” Scarah said as she took his wrist and pulled him back into the gas station.

She guided him over the drink and slushie fountain and grabbed a fistful of napkins, turning back to Heath to help him try and dab out the tea.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized again, “I should’ve been paying more attention. I swear, I’ve had so many things on me mind lately that I feel like me prophecy abilities are coming in a hundred years prematurely.”

Heath gave a small half-smile as he pressed some of the napkins to his sweater. He looked over at the counter. Neighthan had just finished bagging the old lady’s items and was telling her to have a good night. As she turned to the exit, he glanced in the direction and gave Heath a small wave before he walked out from behind the counter towards the back room.

“Yeah, I know,” Heath replied, sighing heavily.

“Whoa, what did I just walk in on?”

They turned to see Invisi Billy standing by the counter, his hands in his pockets as he looked at them with slight amusement.

“Don’t mind me,” he joked as they moved out of the way for him to grab one of the cups, “I just hope not to run under whatever gave you that mark.”

For the first time that day, Heath smirked. “You’re a jackass.”

“And you know you love it,” Billy grinned, filling up his cup with some Lunatic Lime, “Unless this is some sort of strange greeting I didn’t know about? What you say, Scarah?”

“Sod off, you cheeky arse,” Scarah muttered in exasperation.

The good mood didn’t last, however, as they suddenly heard a commotion from the back room.

_“Wait, wait, slow down, what happened?” _they heard Neighthan say “_....Oh god…how bad?...Oh, fuck, w-where are you right now?...” _

They all raised their heads as they saw the zombicorn rush out, struggling as he attempted to pull on his windbreaker with one hand, both it and his messenger bag getting caught on various snack stands. He had his phone held to his ear.

“You okay, man?” Billy asked.

Neighthan’s head lifted. His pupils widened to mere dots at whatever he had heard next from the person he’d been talking on the phone with.

“Isi…is he still out there?” he asked lowly. Silence.

Scarah, Billy, and Heath all shared a look, before they slowly started making their way towards him. Neighthan’s jaw was clenched. His breathing came in very small and tense, like he was trying to himself composed.

Billy put a hand on his shoulder. “Neighthan?”

The latter turned to him. Neighthan looked at each of them, his eyes making him look like he was on the brink of insanity.

“Isi’s hurt,” was all he said, “She said someone’s following her. She says she ran into the woods to escape them, but now she-she’s really hurt. The person was chasing her when she fell.”

They were all obviously thinking the same thing, as the three of them all immediately paled at the simple statement.

“I-I-I need to get out there and find her,” Neighthan pleaded, “Do any of you have your car? I-I need to get out there-“

“We can take mine,” Billy said.

“I’m going with you,” Heath said before he could think to stop himself.

“Me too,” Scarah said.

They burst out the gas station, Neighthan’s coworkers and other customers all giving them looks as they ran for Billy’s Toyota. They piled in and didn’t even bother with seatbelts as Billy quickly started the ignition and pulled out, almost running into the street divider as he swerved onto the road.

“Isi, stay on the line with me,” Neighthan said, “I’m on my way. Okay? Just stay with me, baby.”

“Does she know where she is?” Billy asked.

Neighthan repeated the question, “Do you know where you are, by any chance?”

It was deathly quiet as he listened to Isi. He lifted his head at Billy.

“She says she went off the trail where her house is. She lives on Ghoul’s Grove. That trail’s the one that leads to the lake,” Neighthan explained.

Billy nodded and gunned the engine, only waiting a second at the stop sign before he made a sharp turn to the right, where the streets fell away and the roads were flanked on either side by the tall pines of the forest.

Neighthan rolled his window down as they drove, all the while trying to reassure his ghoulfriend from the other line they were going to find her soon.

_If we find her, _Heath couldn’t help but think, _If he hasn’t already done away with her like Abbey…_

No. He wouldn’t think like that.

They were coming up on another stop sign as Neighthan continued to talk with Isi.

“Is there anything distinct that could help figure out where you are? A landmark?” he questioned, “…Okay, what was that last part?...Isi, I can’t hear you, you sound- Fuck!”

They all looked towards him. They pulled his phone away and glared at the screen in disbelief.

“What? What happened?” Heath asked.

“The fucking service cut out,” Neighthan replied bitterly. He looked at Billy.

“Stop the car.”

“What?” Billy questioned.

“Stop the car,” Neighthan repeated.

The blue-haired boy gave him a strange look but came to a stop. Thick, dense forest surrounded them on all sides, the rest of the road spanning for what seemed to be miles with no sense of nearby life. They were the only ones currently on the road.

Before the wheels had even stopped turning, Neighthan flung his door open and ran out, stumbling on his shoelaces as he started for the edge of the forest line.

“Neighthan, wait,” Heath said as him and Scarah followed, “Where are you going? You don’t even know where she is!”

The hybrid ignored them and held up his cellphone to the sky as if it were a burnt offering, trying to find a signal. His tail flicked in agitation.

“Come on, come on,” he begged.

Heath took out his phone and checked the bars. No service.

“Lad, I know you’re worried, but you’re not helpin’ her by standing here,” Scarah tried to reason, “We just need to get to the police, and then-“

They all froze as an ear-shattering scream echoed through the forest. Birds flew up from the trees in surprise, while the sound reverberated against the giant trees like the clang of a bell.

Their heads shot towards the direction it came from. Before anyone could stop him, Neighthan broke off in a trot.

“ISI!” he exclaimed, running into the trees.

Heath called out his name in surprise and tried to grab his sleeve to stop him, but the latter was gone before he could even reach forward. Billy pushed him and Scarah towards the direction he had taken off.

“Go after them,” he said, “I’ll pull over and try to call the cops.”

Neither of them questioned him. They shared a grim look, before they both ran after the zombicorn.

Branches and leaves batted at their faces and their shins banged against twisted roots. Despite his normally clumsy nature, Neighthan was surprisingly quick, and the only thing that kept either Heath or Scarah from losing complete sight of him was the neon glow of his clothing and mane. They had to have covered what felt like miles of terrain in mere minutes.

“Isi!” Neighthan called out, “Isi, can you hear me?!”

Up ahead, they all heard a female voice call out, “_N-N-Neighthan?!” _

“Isi!” he responded, pushing forward with even greater speed.

They ran for a few more minutes, avoiding puddles and spooking small vermin that darted out of their way in fear at the large monsters that towered over them.

Suddenly, Neighthan skidded to a stop and held his hands out to either side, stopping Heath and Scarah from going on ahead. They both stumbled over their feet at the immediate stop in momentum. Heath glanced at him in confusion, before he looked down to see they were right at the edge of a shallow embankment. It was only a few feet off the ground, but its drop-off was pretty steep to where you could easily get hurt if you weren’t careful.

At the bottom of the embankment, curled up in a ball and her clothes stained with blood, Isi glanced up at them in shock, her soft brown eyes filled with fright. They all gasped in horror at the sight of the broken tree branch sticking out of her bloody abdomen.

Neighthan jumped down from the top of the embankment. He landed wrong and tripped so he landed hard on his knee, but he barely acknowledged it and only let out a small hiss as he rushed towards his ghoulfriend. Heath and Scarah slid down the bank after him.

“N-Neigthan,” Isi whimpered as he knelt next to her.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he said gently as he cupped her cheek, meeting her eyes, before they dropped down to look at her injury. His hands hovered above the wound as he tried to decide what to do.

Heath took a step back, looking sick. “S-Shit, that looks really deep…”

“Help’s on the way,” Scarah assured Isi as she made her way over to them, “Billy’s calling them right now.”

Isi didn’t look relieved at all by her words. If anything, her face paled even further.

Pulling off his jacket, Neighthan positioned it around her waist, ready to use it to stop the blood flow. His horn started glowing with an attempt to use magic. He looked at Isi as he lightly wrapped his hand near around the branch.

“This is going to hurt, okay?” he said, “But this should help relieve some of the pain.”

“Neighthan, w-w-we have to get out of here,” Isi said, her face drained completely of color, “We-we have to get out of here! H-H-He could still be out here!”

Neighthan paused. His mouth suddenly dropped open in alarm. Scarah gasped in realization as her and Heath shared a look of mutual horror.

If what Isi was saying was true, and Billy was left all alone…

“Well, well, well, this is quite the surprise…”

They all froze. It suddenly felt as if the temperature had dropped a hundred degrees. It went deathly quiet in the woods.

Stiffly, Heath and all of them turned to look up at the top of the embankment.

The masked man looked down upon them with sadistic glee as he floated at the edge, looking like demonic bird as he nearly blended completely into the shadows. His mask glowed an unearthly ivory in the moonlight.

They stared at him in horror. Isi immediately shrunk in on herself; she let out a whimper and her eyes flooded with tears. Neighthan held an arm out as if to try and shield her from the masked man, though he too was looking quite afraid. Scarah backed up, her panic evident even with her all-white eyes.

Heath gawked at the masked man. His fear was quickly smothered, though, as he felt a wave of fury come over him and he narrowed his eyes venomously at the infamous figure.

“I was just keeping at bay for the little doe,” the masked man narrated as he floated down to them, everyone stumbling backward in fear, “But for all of you to be here at once- well, that just makes it more fun.”

He raised his head at the sight of Isi laying on the ground. “Aw, you even started hurting yourselves for me. How delightful!”

Isi let out a sob. Heath clenched his fists, his eyes burning with hatred towards the masked man.

“What the hell did you do to my ghoulfriend, you sick fuck?” he questioned, “Where’s Clawd and all them?!”

The masked man turned towards him. He gave him the once over, not missing the way the teen’s eyes were starting to glow with the threat of using his powers.

“You’re her mate?” he asked with a hint of amusement, “A fire elemental? Oh, that is _too good_\- fire and ice. I can’t imagine the millions of disasters waiting to happen between her and _you. _

“Don’t fret, my friend,” he continued mockingly, “Your little snow globe is still holding on. She’s a feisty one. Called me every name known to monster. It was quite amusing to hear.”

He bent his head, like he was smiling. “It was almost as good as whenever I got to hear her _scream.” _

Heath’s eyes lit up in fury. His hair and hands burst into flame as he aimed his right one at the masked man.

“You SON OF A BITCH!” he roared, shooting a blast of fire towards him.

The masked man easily darted out of the way from the blast. He flew in an arch around the embankment as Heath angrily spun and followed him, a steady stream of fire pouring from his hand.

Scarah, Neighthan, and Isi shouted as the masked man came towards them and ducked under the blaze. Neighthan threw himself over Isi and looked over his shoulder at the raging fire elemental.

“Heath, stop!” he ordered, “You’ll cause a forest fire!”

“Oh, let him,” the masked man teased as he twirled back to face them, “Not that his pitiful little fireballs will cause me any harm, but who knows? Maybe he’ll hope to singe my cloak and see who lies underneath all of this?”

Scarah lifted her head from where she lay on her stomach in the grass. She spotted a rock in the grass and glanced between it and the masked man. Gathering up her courage, she dove for it and got to her feet, throwing it towards the masked man with all her strength.

“Leave us alone!” she demanded.

The masked man looked in her direction in time to see the rock coming towards him. He grinned under his masks at the way Scarah and all of them had their mouths drop in shock as the rock passed right through him and clattered across the ground behind him.

“That was cute,” he commented, “What did you hope to accomplish with that? Making me bleed…like this?”

He suddenly whirled to the side and slashed his knife to the left. A small log tumbled out behind him as they all heard a sudden yelp of pain, before Invisi Billy materialized at his feet, writhing as he cupped his heavily bleeding cheek.

“Billy!” Heath exclaimed.

The masked man looked down at Billy.

“Nice ability, but not good enough,” he said, “I applaud you on trying to stay quiet, though.”

He looked at the group, raising his now-bloodstained knife.

“Now, where were we?” he asked.

“Stay back,” Neighthan warned, though his voice waivered as he held up a hand in warning. Little purple wisps were dancing around his horn as he readied his magic.

The masked man just gave him a stare. Neighthan couldn’t see his eyes, but even he could feel his skin crawl at his hidden expression.

“You’re a hybrid,” he said in observation, “I’ve never seen one up close before. You’re just as atrocious as all my siblings used to be.”

Neighthan steeled himself, trying not to let his fear showed. Behind him, Isi gripped the back of his sleeve in a death-grip. He was dimly aware of the fact she was still bleeding and still needed help.

“I’m looking forward to having you,” the masked man said in a pleased tone as he raised his knife, “That way I can cut you up and see what your insides look like.”

He floated up off the ground and bolted towards them.

Scarah watched as he flew towards them, her feet feeling frozen to the spot. She only faintly registered Isi screaming and Neighthan gathering up his magic in his hand, looking scared out of his mind as he tried to focus it on the masked man. The masked man flew at them like a bat straight out of hell, his knife gleaming like a silver tooth.

From a little ways away from her, she could hear Heath yell out and feel a burst of heat as he shot another fireball towards his back. Right at the corner of her eye, she could see Billy getting to his feet- his cheek was pouring copious amounts of blood onto his sweatshirt- and grab the log he had originally had in his hands and run for the masked man.

There was nothing they could do. Besides the fact of his ghostly nature, he was moving way too fast for either of them to catch up. He’d be on Neighthan and Isi in seconds, and after that, who knew what kind of hellish torment he’d inflict on all of them. Either he’d somehow take them all back to whatever forsaken place he was keeping the rest of their friends or he’d just kill them outright.

Faintly, in the distance, Scarah could hear sirens. The ambulance wouldn’t be of any help to them; the masked man would probably slaughter the EMTs once he was done with them.

A sudden idea came to the banshee’s mind.

It was far-fetched and even now, seemed way too much like something out of a comic book for it to possibly be rational, but Scarah found herself desperate and willing to grasp at any opportunity.

_Please, Aine, let this work!_

With the force of all the fright that was pent up in her veins, Scarah took a deep breath.

And screamed.

Heath stopped and bent over as if in pain. The flame in his hand went out as he held his hands against both his ears, a cry of pain escaping him at the sudden deafening pain that ran through his ears. The sound was so high pitched, he felt like his ear drums were about to rupture.

Scarah closed her eyes and threw her head back, screaming at the top of her lungs. Nothing anyone had ever read or heard about the power of a banshee’s wail could ever compare to the real thing; Scarah’s voice carried for miles and miles through the whole forest, waking up wolves and wild cats that hissed and howled at the horrendous noise. It was like the sound of air escaping through a small hole that had been amplified. All around her, her friends immediately cringed and tried to cover their ears, feeling the agitation as their auditory nerves were agitated.

Heath looked over his shoulder at her. Besides the painful ringing in his ears, Scarah’s wail was bone chilling- he could feel goosebumps run down his arms and a sudden sense of foreboding build up in his chest, like he had just seen a bad omen. It was as grating as the sound of metal scraping metal.

A few feet away, he could see Billy doing the same, his face pinched in discomfort.

There was a loud scream in front of him. Heath turned back around and was surprised at what he saw.

The masked man was bent over, his hands pressed against the top of his hat as he squirmed, whipping his head back and forth like he was trying to shake the sound off. He was also screaming; it was a harsh, terrifying, agonizing sound. Like that of a dying animal. He kept bending and straightening up, back and forth, like he was going mad. Neighthan and Isi, their ears covered, cried out as he got close to them in his thrashing.

Of all of them, he seemed to be the one most affected by Scarah’s scream. The way he was reacting reminded Heath of the times his neighbor’s dog howled when their house’s smoke alarm went off, or when Clawd and the rest of the werewolves on the casketball team reacted when one of the guys thought it would be funny to replace Coach Igor’s whistle with a dog whistle.

A sudden lightbulb went off in his head.

If the masked man was reacting like that, then that must mean he was more affected by the screams than them.

_Which means his hearing must be advanced, _Heath thought, _Which means…_

His eyes narrowed at the masked man.

For once, they had caught him off guard. He was made vulnerable.

If they didn’t act now, they may not get another shot.

Ignoring the searing sensation in his ears that came after he took them away, Heath shot to his feet and charged the masked man. He knew there was a big chance he’d end up just like the rock Scarah had thrown and just go right through him, but he felt that he still had to try.

As he got closer to the masked man, he caught a flash of bright blue around the latter’s neck.

Heath shot forward and reached for the masked man. His arms passed right through his back and came out from just under his collarbones.

He had intended on trying to see if he could rip the mask off, but instead, had managed to grab hold of the strange hourglass pendant that was tucked into the masked man’s cloak.

“NO!” the masked man screamed, turning solid as his hands grasped Heath’s and tried to wrangle them from it.

Heath let out a yell of surprise as he was suddenly jerked off his feet and spun around, feeling like he was riding a bull at a rodeo. The two of them went spinning like a top, fighting for release of the strange pendant. Heath felt a wave of nausea in his stomach from motion sickness. Whatever material the masked man’s necklace was made of,

Despite his ghostly nature, the masked man proved much stronger and- with a yell of pain from Heath as he felt sharp nails pierce through the gloves and dig into the skin of his hand- was able to rip his right hand free of the small chain. Heath felt himself slide around as his arm flew back and his weight was propelled to the side, nearly flinging him off had he not managed to hold on somehow by his left hand.

A hand clamped around his forearm and flung him to the ground. Heath let out a choked sound as the force knocked the wind out of him. He squinted dazedly.

The masked man towered over him, his large hand wrapped around Heath’s wrist in a bruising lock. The eyeholes of his mask looked like menacing voids in the darkness. His stance was stiff and bristled.

From under his mask, Heath could hear him growling. It was a vicious, hate-filled sound, the kind that an animal would let out when they were truly on the warpath.

He yanked Heath forward, causing the teen’s arm to jut out right across him. With his free hand, he raised his knife high above his head.

There was a flash in Heath’s eyes as the metal blade glinted against the moonlight. Before he could react, the masked man slammed the knife down.

Then suddenly, all he knew was pain.

“AIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

“**HEATH!” **Neighthan screamed in horror. Isi, temporarily forgetting her pain, put her hands up to her mouth in shock.

Nothing could’ve prepared them for the sight that unfolded before them, as the masked man brought his knife down on Heath’s upper arm, just a few inches above his elbow, and- with no hesitation and a shocking amount of strength- cleaved it right off his body.

He ripped it away, watching as Heath immediately crumpled onto his knees and screeched with anguish, his right hand flying to clutch the stump that was left of his arm as it spurted blood out onto the forest floor.

“OH GOD!” he screamed, “HE TOOK IT! HE JUST CUT IT OFF! AAAAGH!”

Scarah stopped screaming for the moment, her breath hitching at the gruesome sight. It only terrified her more, and she began screaming again. Everyone doubled over at the excruciating sound.

The masked man whirled around and glared at her. A loud, angry snarl ripped from his throat. He dropped his knife and, with a loud screech that was faintly reminiscent of a pig, shot towards the banshee at a bullet-like speed.

Scarah’s ear-shattering wail was cut off with a garble-like sound as the masked man grabbed her arms and tackled her backwards. She let out a pained cry as she hit the ground and slid backwards in the dirt, small pebbles digging into the skin of her back and thighs and drawing blood.

She looked up in terror as the masked man loomed over her. He grabbed the bottom of his balaclava and yanked it upward.

Scarah had just enough time to register ginger hair lining a dark brown muzzle and a jagged yellow dentition, before he dipped his head down and she felt the prick of sharp teeth against her throat.

She jerked and her green lips opened up in a silent scream as he clamped his teeth around the flesh of her jugular and threw his head back and proceeded to rip out her vocal cords.

** _“SCARAH!” _ **

The masked man held the shredded muscle between his teeth as he glared down at the withering banshee. Scarah’s hands shot up to her exposed throat as blood bubbled over her lips and spilled down the sides of her neck.

He spit it out and quickly pulled the balaclava back down to hide his bloodstained mouth, before he stood up and back from her, watching as she thrashed as she struggled for breath.

“_Get away from her!” _Billy yelled as he ran towards the masked man, a large branch from a nearby tree in his hands.

The masked man dodged him and turned solid again to ram his knee into his stomach. Billy wheezed from the impact and dropped the branch, falling to his knees as he held his abdomen.

“Heath! Heath, you gotta hold still!”

He turned around. Neighthan had left Isi, his jacket pressed against her wound, and had run towards Heath, kneeling besides the fire elemental. He had managed to rip off the sleeve of his shirt and was currently using it to tie a tourniquet around Heath’s arms; Heath grit his teeth and sobbed hysterically.

The masked man looked down at the ground. The boy’s arm was lying right by his feet, a puddle of blood growing out from under where his broken humerus jutted out. Bending down, the masked man grabbed it by the limp wrist.

“I’ll be taking this,” he announced, “I’m sure your little savage would like a little update as to how her dear fire starter is doing without her.

“Let this be a little lesson to you all not to _fuck _with me again,” he added, the last part coming out as a growl.

He grabbed the log Billy originally had and swung it, bashing the blue-haired boy in the back of the head. Billy crumbled onto his side, unconscious. Neighthan winced as he could see his hair and head become wet with blood.

The masked man threw down the log and stared down the zombicorn. Neighthan stiffened and stared back, fearful of whatever he was planning on doing next.

“You better get them help fast,” the masked man said to him, gesturing to Scarah with a nod of his head, “I give two or three minutes. Max.”

Without another word, he floated up until he was level with the top of the embankment and disappeared into the shadows, the wisps of ectoplasm he left behind being the only evidence left of his presence.

Neighthan got to his feet and ran towards Scarah, dropping down to one knee as he looked at her face.

“Scarah!” he exclaimed, “Scarah, h-hang in there, okay?”

Scarah only replied with a choked, gargled sound, blood pouring from in between her fingers and down her chin. She gazed up at him with terrified white eyes. Neighthan put his own hands over hers to try and stifle the bleeding more.

“Come on, come on, work,” he muttered to himself as he mustered up more magic. His hands were shaking from the exertion; being only half-unicorn meant he didn’t have the same level of control as his mom, and using so much of his abilities in such a small period of time was taking its toll on him.

The familiar purple cloud shot from his horn to his hands to over Scarah’s throat. Besides creating a few blood clots that lessened the hemorrhaging only slightly, it was of little use; his healing abilities were only meant to treat minor injuries, not ones that were as severe as this one.

“N…N…Ne…igh…t-t-th….an…” Scarah rasped out. Her words were barely more than a few pitiful whispers, accentuated by a sickening whistling sound that came directly from her shredded airway.

“Scarah, don’t talk,” Neighthan commanded, “Save your breath.”

He looked around, taking in the carnage around him. Isi was still lying on her side, the tree branch still imbedded in her side as she tried to take deep breaths; her face was deathly pale and she looked like she was about to pass out at any second. Heath writhed on the ground, his face just as sickly and his forehead beaded with sweat as he clutched the bloody remains of his right arm. His brows twitched up and down like he was trying to hold in the temptation to scream.

There was no telling how Billy was doing, save for the shallow rise and fall of his back that indicated he was still breathing. Neighthan could only hope that the blow to his head was just a bad cut and a concussion.

His head perked up towards the direction from which he had come as he realized the sounds of the sirens were now louder. On the horizon of the embankment, he could see flashing blue and red lights.

“HELP!” he yelled out in that direction, “WE NEED HELP OVER HERE!”

He didn’t know how far away they still were or even if any of them were coming in this direction. He continued to yell out, though, too scared over the wellbeing of his friends and his love to care.

_Hurry, please, _he silently begged to the gods above, _Please, just hurry…_

* * *

“Pleeeease, Frankie, one more story?” Alivia pleaded, grasping her hands together, “I promise, it will only be one more!”

Frankie smiled, but shook her head as she stood up from the bed. “No, Alivia. It’s your bedtime. You need to go sleep and recharge now.”

“Not even a short one?” Alivia asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Frankie replied as she put the book she had read to her sister back on the shelf, “Now come on, get under the covers.”

Alivia pouted, but did as she was told; she lay back with her head against her pillow and slid down under her duvet. Frankie double-checked the clamps on her bolts to make sure they were secured properly and the settings on the charger, before she bent over and tucked her sister in.

“There,” Frankie smiled as she patted her sister’s stuffed monster, “All comfy?”

Alivia nodded. She stared at the older simulacrum for a moment, before she called out to her a in small voice.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?” Frankie responded.

“Are we…is the bad man going to get us?” Alivia asked.

Frankie paused. She gaped at the little ghoul, shocked by the question. Alivia stared back at her with scared mismatched eyes. Her bottom lip started to quiver.

“Everyone in my class is saying that they heard more people form your school went missing,” she explained, “They say he goes after us so he can take us back to his house and cook us up and eat us. What…what if he comes after us next?”

Her eyes suddenly flooded with tears. She looked tiny against the large bed, the duvet and pillows looking like they were about to swallow her whole.

For a moment, Frankie was too surprised to do anything but stare at her. When her senses came to her, her expression turned grim. She bent over the side of the bed and put her hand on Alivia’s head to smooth down her hair.

“No, sweetie, he’s not,” she said softly, “I promise, he’s not going to get you.”

“But how do you know?” Alivia persisted, “He keeps going after people from Monster High. What if you go missing like Pawla’s brother or the rest of them?”

The words felt like a cold dagger in Frankie’s chest. A wave of sorrow washed upon her at the mention of her friends and the amount of fear in her little sister’s voice. The sudden urge to cry was suddenly strong, but she forced herself to fight back against it.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she said, “I’ll be perfectly fine. And don’t worry about Abbey and them, everything’s going to turn out just fine. Trust me.”

“You don’t know that,” Alivia countered with a small frown.

“I know I’ve been in plenty of bad situations and managed to find my way out of every single one of them,” Frankie replied. She gave her another reassuring smile and reached under the covers to squeeze Alivia’s hand. “Trust me. Your big sister’s a big ghoul who can handle herself. It’s going to take a lot more than some man in a Halloween costume to scare me.”

She felt slight pressure against her palm as Alivia’s smaller, pudgier one squeezed back. Seemingly pacified, Alivia closed her eyes and relaxed into the blankets. Frankie stood up and made her way to the door. She glanced into Gigawatt’s cage to see the mouse-bunny deeply asleep; she smiled at the amusing way his back legs and rabbit ear kept twitching.

Giving one last glance towards Alivia’s bed, Frankie slowly opened the door and slid out into the hallway, gently pulling it shut behind her.

She let go of the handle and stared at the back of the door for a few minutes, mulling over the exchange that just occurred. Frankie sighed. She didn’t like lying to her sister, but she wasn’t about to admit to her that she was having those same fears and spook her into having nightmares for to the rest of the night.

A sudden fatigue came upon her. It had been quite a long day. Between the now-familiar sense of terror and dread that came with the news of Wydowna and the twins to the momentary relief at the news about Silvi, all her energy, mentally and physically, had almost been completely zapped.

Deciding to turn in for the night, Frankie headed to her bedroom to grab some pajamas before she went into the bathroom to change and take off her makeup. She was in the middle of brushing her teeth when her phone suddenly starting ringing. The screen displayed that it was Jackson.

Frankie rinsed and wiped her mouth, before she picked up the phone and hit “call.”

“Hello?” she answered.

“_Where are you right now?” _Jackson asked, his voice tight and grim.

The second she heard his tone, Frankie felt her heart drop into her stomach. Her grip on her phone case tightened.

“I-I-I’m at home, I was about ready to go to bed…why?” she asked.

“_I’m at the hospital right now,” _Jackson replied, “_I got a call from my uncle. _

_“Heath’s at the hospital. Him, Billy, and Scarah got attacked,” _he explained.

In her reflection, Frankie could see her eyes bug out and her pupils go small.

“What?!” she exclaimed, walking out of the bathroom to reduce the echo, “What the hell happened?”

_“I don’t know,” _Jackson said, “_My parents and me were just cleaning up after dinner, then my Aunt Edana called, saying how Heath went out to get something from the gas station and still hadn’t come back and then her and my uncle ended up getting a call from the police saying how he’d been assaulted. Neighthan and Isi were there too. _

_“Neighthan says that…that Isi called him. The…the perp was stalking her, and she got hurt when she tried to run.” _

_Oh god, _Frankie thought, mortified. “A-Are they okay?”

“_I don’t know, Scarah’s still in surgery,” _Jackson answered, “_Isi was…stabbed, somehow. Not from the perp, but I guess from some random thing in the woods or something. She just got her stitches done; Neighthan says she’ll…she’ll be okay. Billy’s got a concussion and a really nasty cut on his face, but from what Spectra told me, he’ll be fine, too.” _

“And Heath?” Frankie asked, both worried and somewhat dreading the answer.

Jackson stayed silent. Had it not been for the background noise of the hospital, Frankie would’ve thought he had hung up on her.

“Jackson?” she called, her fear growing, “What about Heath? Is he okay?!”

“_He…he cut his…” _Jackson mumbled.

“What?” Frankie replied, “I-I can’t hear you.”

_“The guy cut his fucking arm off!” _Jackson snapped, “_He-He just cut it off, Frankie! I don’t know how, but he…he just fucking cut his arm off! His whole arm, almost! A-And the fucking sick bastard took it **with **him! Heath doesn’t have anything there anymore! It’s just…i-it’s just a fucking stump now!” _

The air suddenly went still. Frankie froze halfway in the doorway of her room. She stared across the room blankly. She blinked, her mind unable to register what had just been said.

“…What?”

“_His arm,” _Jackson repeated, “_The guy…he took his arm. The doctor couldn’t even reattach it because there wasn’t anything. Neighthan says the guy took it with him- like-like fucking sick souvenir. Just…fuck, Frankie, I’ve never seen him like this before…” _

In his dog bed, Watzit lifted his head as he noticed how his owner just stood in the doorway, like someone had just hit the pause button on her. He tilted his head as he heard her increased heart rate and took in her disturbed expression, confused as he failed to see what was causing her to act in such a way.

“Do…do you want me to come over?” Frankie asked, “I-I don’t have a car, my parents are working late…”

“_Oh…n-no, it’s fine,” _Jackson replied, “_I just needed to…I don’t know.” _

They lapsed into silence after that. Jackson then spoke up again.

“_I…I’m sorry to just dump this all on you all of a sudden, right before you’re about to sleep,” _he said, “_I just…I’m so scared, but I’m so fucking angry too. Like, he did this to Heath. To MY cousin, to my family…” _

“I know, baby. It’s okay,” Frankie said softly. She felt a small pang as she heard her boyfriend let out a shaky breath, like he was on the verge of tears.

Jackson sniffed and instead went, “_I…I’ll let you go. I…guess I just thought you should know, in case I’m not at school tomorrow or something, and…I really needed to hear your voice right now.” _

“Okay,” Frankie responded, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for Heath.”

_“I will,” _Jackson said wearily, “_I…I love you. I love you SO, so much.” _

Frankie couldn’t help but smile at that. “I love you, too.”

The call ended with a small click as Jackson told her goodbye and hung up. She let her arm fall to her hip, her phone gripped tightly in her hand like she was trying to shatter the glass.

The smile immediately dropped from her features and was replaced with a look of alarm. Shoving her phone onto her desk, Frankie turned and ran from the room. Watzit sat up and gave a small bark, surprised at the sudden action.

Frankie raced down the stairs and ran around the bottom level, double checking the locks on all the windows and the back and front doors. She shut all the blinds and pulled the curtains closed for extra measure. She grabbed her dad’s tool kit from the broom closet and put it up against the doggy door as a makeshift barricade, and even grabbed a plastic bag and framed it over the grate that protected the small window on the back door to block the view from outside.

After that was done, Frankie immediately went for the knife block and pulled out the biggest chef’s knife, before she ran from the kitchen and pounded up the stairs like her life depended on it.

She burst into her room and shut the door behind her and locked it. Going straight for the windows, she made sure they were both locked and pulled the curtains closed before she hurried over to her bed and hurriedly put on her charging wires.

Once they were secure, she dove under the covers and stared up at the ceiling, the knife held to her chest as Frankie looked around the room fearfully, her eyes analyzing every little shadow. From his bed, Watzit tilted his head at her in confusion, but she paid him no mind, lost within her thoughts.

_Another _attack.

First the three new kidnappings, then Silvi, and now Heath and Scarah and them were all hurt. In the matter of only a day.

And the one person responsible for it all was still out there. For all she knew, he was roaming the neighborhood right now, trying to find who his next target would be. Finding how to kill next.

Frankie trembled under the covers. She put the knife on her nightstand- maybe she was being paranoid, but right now she couldn’t think of anything else except that Heath had his arm chopped off, Abbey was kidnapped from her very bedroom, and the perpetrator was God knows where doing God knows what.

She stayed up almost the whole night, too terrified to close her eyes, her heart pounding with the thought that the second she nodded off, she would awake to find herself in the masked man’s possession. She dreamt horrible nightmares of blood and torment and awoke in a cold sweat, a smothered scream on her lips.

* * *

The masked man pounded his fist on the table. An angry growl ripped from his throat as he thought back to the night’s events. In the darkened corners of his own home, he had taken off his mask and hat, allowing him to see the way he gritted his teeth in the mirror across the hall.

Pain.

He had felt pain tonight.

For the first time, in over a hundred and ten years, he had felt pain.

He had been _weak. _

His nails dug into the mahogany of the table as he thought back to the forest. He had the half-breed and his little doe in the palm of his hands, only to be caught completely off guard by that little banshee bitch; in that moment, any and all of his original plans had been tossed aside as he had become engulfed with the sensation of someone driving a knife straight into his ears.

Not that the auditory pain would’ve necessarily done anything- not while he was ghostly, that was- though it was annoying. It was more so his damaged pride; all this time, he had managed to slip by the police with little effort, and yet tonight he had almost folded over a stupid teenager.

And that fucking fire boy nearly got a hold of his pendant. If he had managed to take it off, he would’ve been ruined. The masked man let forth another growl when he thought of it.

“He should count himself lucky it was only his arm,” the masked man muttered to himself, “I _should _have ripped every one of his limbs off.”

He licked his lips, tasting the banshee’s blood around his mouth and teeth. No matter, he thought. He had seen to it that she’d never wail again; she could announce her next prophecy of doom by writing with her tongue, for all he cared, if she somehow made it out of that forest alive.

And if the fire elemental thought _he _was in a bad situation by losing his arm, he should have counted himself lucky he didn’t have to be there when the masked man waved it in front of his precious little yeti; that made the masked man smirked. It brought him great pleasure to see that tough ice finally crack as Abbey went paler than an iceberg and looked like she was torn between fainting and screaming.

Still, though, he scolded himself, the risk had become way too big way too quickly. Maybe this was a sign he was starting to let it go to his head. Even if he had done a good job covering himself up this point, he couldn’t let his arrogance make him sloppy.

The masked man reached up and rubbed his ear. The ringing that had remained there after he had taken down the banshee was now gone; he hated to admit it, but the ghoul had had quite a set of lungs on her. It had hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt pain like that.

No, wait. Yes, he did.

He hadn’t pain like that since _him. _Since he was still stuck on that godforsaken island, with that white room and all those tools…

His fists clenched at the memory. He bristled as he felt faint phantom paints strike various parts of his body.

The masked man shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. It didn’t matter- _He _was dead, just like the rest of them in that hellhole.

That was the first time he had felt pain ever since his awakening. It would be the last time he felt it either- he was not about to be outdone by a bunch of sniveling brats who did nothing but cry and scream at the mere sight of him.

He picked up his mask and hat off the floor before he headed into one room to change out of his costume and put it away.

Best to settle down for the night. That way, he could be rested enough to have some fun tomorrow; especially with those twins he had managed to snag the other night.

The masked man grinned. His mood immediately improved at the thought, and he went up to his bedroom lost in his dark fantasy of the world of hurt he was about to bring on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hoooo boy, this turned out way longer than I thought it would and took longer than I wanted. Sorry about that.


	13. Chapter 12: Don't Fear the Reaper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Contains torture, depiction of character death.

“Okay,” Grindylow ran a hand over his face, “Lay it on me.”

Firth looked down at his notes. “Last night, dispatchers were phoned in to an assault that had occurred somewhere out near the forest off near Skinwalker road. Five teenagers had been assaulted, three of them left in critical condition. Luckily, all of them have since been seen to and last time we checked in, we were told they were all making steady recoveries.”

He flipped the page. “According to the testimony of the Rot boy- the only one left uninjured and conscious enough to talk to us- it was the perp who attacked them.”

“Of course it was,” Grindylow said tiredly.

Beside him, Dr. Moreau gave him a sympathetic smile. The poor detective suddenly looked a thousand years old; his brow was so deeply crinkled it was bound to leave permanent lines and his hair was looking a little greyer than it had been just the other day.

“However, also in his statement, he said something occurred that I’d think you’d be interested in hearing,” Firth said to Grindylow, “He said his little banshee friend started screaming her head off to try and ward the guy off.

“Apparently, our masked friend didn’t like that, as he started covering his ears and wailing like the sound hurt him a great deal,” he said, his eyebrow slowly rising up, “Almost like, if you will, the noise was effecting him a lot more than the kids. Almost like someone who possibly can hear a few decibels higher than the average monster.”

That got the senior detective’s attention. Grindylow took his hand away from his face and glanced up at the cyborg, his attention now grabbed.

“Really?” he asked.

Firth nodded, “So much so that apparently, our fire elemental lad managed to catch him off guard and leap onto his back, though unfortunately it cost him his left arm.”

Grindylow nodded. He glanced down at the table in thought, his hand going up to cup his chin as he pondered the statement. He turned to Moreau, curious.

“Well?” he asked, “What do you think?”

Dr. Moreau pursed his lips in thought. “That _could _lean in the direction he is some kind of wereanimal,” he said, “But it’s honestly so bare-bones that I can’t make a concrete assumption about it based off that alone. If we had any other evidence, say hair or walking stature, that could potentially paint a better picture.”

He looked up at Firth. “Did any of that happen to be at the scene? Any strange claw marks or tracks in the dirt?”

Firth just shrugged and replied with slight sarcasm, “Well, there’s the fact that he used his teeth to rip out the banshee ghoul’s throat, but I’d doubt we’d be able to get a good mold from whatever’s left of her larynx with her stitches in the way.”

Moreau winced at the statement. Grindylow shot Firth a sour look. The white haired detective just continued to glance down at his notepad.

“We also have a statement from Silvi Timberwolf about her time in captivity,” Firth said, “I think this may just give us an insight as to our Dr. Plague’s motives.”

Grindylow did a wave gesture with his hand. “Let’s hear it.”

Firth reached into his pocket and pulled out a cassette tape. He held it up so they could see, before he turned and inserted into the old tape recorder he’d placed on the table. He pressed the lid shut and hit the play button, standing back so they could all hear.

As the tape rolled, they could hear his and one of the other detectives’ voices.

_“There’s no need to be scared, Silvi,” _Firth’s voice said gently, “_This is not an interrogation. We’re here to help. We just want to get to the bottom of all this and be able to stop this once and for all.” _

_“I-I know. Sorry, I’ve ne’er bin this jumpy afair,” _a ghoul’s voice with a heavy Rottish accent replied, _“It’s jist efter…efter everything, there’s a big part ay me that feels loch the other shoe’s in the way o’ drepping.” _

Firth said, “_No need to apologize, I understand. You’ve been through some very terrible, dark things in the last few months. At any point you feel like it’s becoming too much or you just need a moment to yourself, just tell me, okay?” _

_“O…O-Okay,” _Silvi said. Her voice was meek, “_W-Whit dae ye want tae ken?” _

The three of them listened as Firth began his questioning. With the classic disclaimer “I know this is hard for you” he asked her if she could recall anything about the place she had been kept while imprisoned- what it looked like, if there had been anyone else there with her, had the masked man ever revealed what he looked like or had done anything that could be indicative of his identity.

“_I-It was metal,” _Silvi answered, “_Aw aroond. Looked like some kin ay shed ur shippin’ crate. He hud a boorichie ay boxes an’ mince piled up, sae I didnae pure see an entrance. He never walked in and roarin’ fu ben onie way. He jist…phased in. Like a ghost.” _

Grindylow shared a look with Firth. _He’s really taking advantage of this whole “not solid” shtick he’s got going on, _he thought bitterly.

The tape continued with Silvi explaining that when he had let her go, he had used some kind of power or ability to transfer them someplace else- she wasn’t sure how to describe it, she explained, as he had blindfolded her before he had undid the orichalcum chains that had kept her shackled, and gave her the specific order to never turn around or slow down, under the threat he’d hurt her.

_“I-I min I felt a wee dizzy. Like when ye on a roller coaster and the drop is in the wet tae happen. En then we were in somehow in the forest. I dunnae kinn how far we from…the place,” _Silvi elaborated.

“More that of that shadow travel,” Moreau said, “That’s the most common way people who have gone with someone have described it- a sort of fluttery feeling, like you’re suspended in free fall.”

“And another way he can cover his tracks,” Grindylow said with a growl, “He phases in so he doesn’t give any indication as to where they may be from outside the actual door or risk someone hearing in case they decided to scream, and then he uses the shadow traveling so her scent doesn’t leave a trail that can be traced back to him.”

They continued listening in to the tape. Firth asked Silvi if she had seen anyone else in her captivity, or had the killer at any time unmasked himself or given any indication as to who he could be? Silvi replied no and that it was just her- though he did mention “the others” at times, but she had thought he was only referring to the three that had originally gone missing; she had no idea that so many others had since been taken in such small amount of time.

_“H-He called them tests,” _she continued shakily, “_W-When he…whenever he hurt me. He said it was tae see jist how ‘domesticated’ I hae become. How me and me species hae become.” _

_“I see,” _Firth said, “_Did he elaborate on what this meant?” _

_“H-He said he’s bin watchin’ the monsters in town,” _Silvi explained, “_That he hates how human we all act and feels loch we’ve deluded ourselves intae thinking’ we can ever truly be men. Sae he did these tests tae resemble real life situations wolves face- poison, natural disasters, mince loch that. It…it really hurt, but all he said was…all he said was…” _

She broke off into a whimper. Grindylow’s hands clenched just the slightest bit on the table as he heard Firth try to calm her down.

_“Do you need to take a few minutes?” _Firth asked.

_“N-N-No, I’m fine,” _Silvi said, “_I-It’s just hard having tae think about him. All he said was that the pain meant there was still some kind of animal in me. He said he’d bin tauld humans dorn’t feel pain at all cuz they ‘don’t need it.’ He said the true questions was whit I was gonnae dae tae about it.” _

At that statement, Dr. Moreau suddenly made a noise. Firth glanced up to see him tense; he stared at the tape recorder like an Eldritch being from another world had just manifested out of it. His fists were clenched on the table tightly.

“Something sound familiar to you, Doctor?” Firth asked.

Grindylow turned in his seat to glance at the hybrid. Moreau squirmed in his seat restlessly and kept rubbing his wrist like he was nervous. He seemed to realize what he was doing and looked up at the two detectives with a strained smile.

“Sorry, Detective. Didn’t mean to freak out right there,” he apologized, “Just sounded a little bit familiar is all.”

Grindylow raised a brow, “Did it now?”

Moreau nodded. His smile quickly faded as he glanced down at the table as if deep in thought. With a sigh, he explained his reaction.

“That line,” he said, “About humans not feeling pain…it was the same ideology my father prescribed too.”

Grindylow and Firth shared a look of surprise. In the time they had worked with the doctor, he’d been a rather private man, only scarcely making mentions of his personal life such as a few remarks about his husband stepdaughter. He was even more secretive about his upbringing; other than the name, Grindylow didn’t know anything about how he left the infamous “Island of Freaks” or how he retained his humanoid appearance.

Dr. Moreau must’ve sensed his and Firth’s confusion on how such a topic was relevant, as he let out another sigh and began to elaborate.

“You probably guessed it by now, but obviously, I am not actually the original Dr. Moreau,” the lion hybrid explained, “He was my father who died all the way back in the late 1890s during the so-called ‘uprising’ of us Beast Folk on his private island, after many years of his infamous experimentation on splicing animals in hopes of creating the ‘perfect’ human.”

Grindylow gave a curt nod. “I heard the stories once or twice.”

Moreau nodded in satisfaction, “Then you’ve probably also heard of the barbaric nature of these experiments. There is no doubt that this subset of genetic modification was no doubt miraculous, especially in the given time period, but it was imperfect. Given that you have essentially forced two vastly different strands of DNA together despite whatever flaws there may be, our DNA is essentially under constant breakage and repair- it was until almost a century that me and a few others managed to find a serum that finally stabilized the sequences. As a result, it was common for beast folk to regress, both on a physical and mental level.

“Hence, we were forced to undergo constant surgeries to ‘fix’ this regression, no matter how severe it had gotten. My father was determined for us to retain our humanity, no matter the cost,” he added. His voice grew small at the last words.

Grindylow watched as the doctor swallowed hard, a flash of fear occurring in his eyes. He rubbed his sleeve near the crook of his elbow absentmindedly, as if remembering a memory of something painful having been placed there.

“…Doctor?” Grindylow said after a moment’s silence.

Dr. Moreau blinked. Realizing he had spaced out, he gave the detective an apologetic look and continued with his story.

“Yes, sorry about that. Anyway, as I was saying, the beast folk were imperfect,” he said, “But my father was determined to get his final results. He didn’t care that his procedures were painful to us. He actually thought the pain was a sign that he _needed _to perform them, if we were still able to feel such sensations.

“You see, my father believed that pain was purely an animalistic trait,” he explained, “Something to let them know that there is danger about that because they lack the intelligence to grasp what such danger entails. He argued that, other in times of injury, pain was not needed; and, considering that other living organisms like plants do not feel pain, that a ‘true’ human being does not need feel it, either, because he is quick enough and understanding enough to see the danger before any type of pain comes about.”

“In other words, pain is useless and survival of the fittest should seek to eliminate it from the most superior evolutions,” Firth commented.

Dr. Moreau smiled dryly. “Pretty much. Although you’d think a biologist like him would know better in that true evolution has nothing to do with making a species ‘the best’ but is just about certain characteristics that a species develops by pure chance that coincidentally serves in their favor when their environment changes.”

“So, what? You think someone’s trying to imitate his experiments with these kids? Try and warp them into a whole new species?” Grindylow asked.

“Oh no, not at all,” the doctor answered, shaking his head, “For one, almost all of the original documents were destroyed during in a disastrous fire that broke out the night of my father’s death. It’s also clear, based on the victims’ wounds, that he _means _to bring pain. It’s not a dismissal of it, he’s purposefully hurting them. From the sounds of it, to see how they will react.”

It took a minute before Grindylow caught on to his inference.

“You think the killer’s connected to that island you came from,” he stated.

Dr. Moreau crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He stroked his chin as he gathered his thoughts.

“Call it a hunch, if you will,” he said, “But something about what she said; all his talk of ‘instinct’ and all his misanthropic undertones, it reminds me of some of the people back home.

“After my father was killed and the testing compounds were destroyed, many of the original beast folk decided to regress back into their original primitive state. Understandably, they were against further laboratories and being forced to be something they weren’t. Only a few, like myself, sought out life after the island and, with the help of other mad scientists, were able to stop the genetic breakage. After that, we all went our separate ways; me and some others went on to integrate into the monster world. Others eventually ended up regressing anyway. None of us, though, came out that experience unscathed,” he finished, the far-off tone of memory in his voice once again.

He looked back up at Grindylow, “It wouldn’t surprise me if the few who maintained a human state of awareness ended developing a grudge of some sort, specifically against humans. After all, how could anyone talk of the savagery of beasts when our creator cut us open and tormented us for his own desire to become a personal God? Who is to say that man isn’t immune to becoming his own monster?”

Firth nodded, “And who’s to say that grudge wouldn’t extend to the other animals who they think have ‘allowed’ themselves to bow to this man proclaiming himself as a personal god?”

Moreau nodded in conformation. Grindylow frowned.

“Okay, so we have a possible motive,” he said, “But that still doesn’t explain how he’s got all these fancy powers that definitely are not characteristic of an ordinary dog or cat.”

Firth suggested, “Perhaps he took a few notes out of his old man’s book. Probably doing a little at-home surgery on himself, transfusing all the other monsters into himself. We can check missing persons reports from the last few months, see if anyone like a ghost or a hellhound is in them, even call around to the next county for any clues.”

_Great, more fucking surfing. And no guarantee of any results, _a cynical part in Grindylow’s mind muttered. He pushed it down, though, and was about to respond to Firth, when his phone rang in his pocket.

The three of them glanced down at his pants. Grindylow pulled it out, seeing Vitae’s name flashing on the screen. He pressed the call button.

“Hello?” he answered.

“_Irving?” _Vitae called from the speaker.

“Vitae? What’s up?” Grindylow asked.

“_Sir…” _the vampire’s voice was grim, “_Just got a call in from Hexchester, near that abandoned lot by the train tracks. _

_“You might want to get down here,” _she added with finality, before she hung up.

Grindylow and Firth shared a look. Moreau looked between them nervously. It was obvious whatever had happened was serious and not at all good.

“Come on,” Grindylow commanded, standing up at once. He shoved his phone into his pocket and turned to Moreau.

“Doctor,” he nodded, before him and Firth marched out of the conference room without another word. Moreau followed after them anxiously, silently praying that the situation that had gone down wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

* * *

In his prison, Clawd slept restlessly. He lay slumped in his chair, his head tilted to the side to rest on his shoulder. His eyelids fluttered rapidly as he dreamt, while his brows twitched and knitted together in a mix of pain and unpleasantness at whatever he was dreaming about. A few small moans escaped him.

He looked like a mess. His fur was filthy and caked in blood and other disgusting substances, which left a stomach-churning stench and made his skin itch. His pelt was patchy from where hair had fallen out from stress. He had lost some of his muscle tone from lack of exercise and starvation. The gashes that had been inflicted from the barbed wire had since coagulated and let up on the bleeding, with the shallower wounds forming crusty scabs.

Clawd let out another small groan as a sharp pang of hunger hit his stomach. There was no telling how long he’d gone without any food or water.

His ears twitched at the sound of clinking glass and liquid pouring into a container. His face scrunched up in displeasure, before he slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the harsh light of the bare bulb.

In front of him, his back to the werewolf, the masked man bent over a chair he was using as a makeshift table, pouring various containers of liquids into a two-liter glass storage bottle. He took a plastic bottle decorated with lemons and dumped it out; murky yellow liquid filled the bottom, before it quickly became diluted as he dumped in another bottle, this one’s contents being clear and having a strong scent of chemicals.

Clawd immediately tensed up. He pressed his back against the chair and stared at the masked man with wary yellow eyes, dread and fear at whatever hell he had planned for him.

The masked man was oblivious to him for a few minutes as he grabbed a container of salt and poured it into the storage bottle until it was nearly empty. He suddenly paused, though, and lifted his head, like he was listening for something, before he turned to look over his shoulder at Clawd.

He didn’t say anything. Clawd stared at him uneasily, trying to keep his breathing under control as he felt the threat of a panic attack creeping in. The masked man stared back at him, before he turned back around at the bottle.

“Your wounds are very deep,” he commented, holding up the bottle in front of him, “They’re starting to get infected.”

He swirled the liquid in the bottle around, watching how the salt in it dissolved.

“I’ve decided to give you another chance,” he continued, “The last few meetings between us have been disappointing, but I do not truly believe you are beyond help yet. I think you just need a little more push, something that will show you you’re truly at the edge and make you realize that you need not restrain the beast for something as silly as man’s world.”

“How much more ‘push’ is it going to take for you to just fucking kill me already, you goddamn freak?” Clawd rasped out weakly.

His whole body trembled in pain, not just from the cuts, but from the other variety of injuries that he’d been forced to endure the last few times the masked man had been here: Burns on his lower back, bruises on his face and chest that aggravated the barbed wire wounds, his left foot and ankle broken in several places.

It hurt so much. He was in so much pain. He felt disgusting and dirty and like his body was starting to rot away. He just wanted it to be over, by any means necessary.

Now, he was starting to pray the masked man would just finally show some mercy and slit his throat already.

The masked man turned to face him. He walked towards the beaten werewolf; Clawd immediately leaned back and stared up at him with trepidation; he could hear the boy start to give small little whines, like he were a puppy upset at their owner going to work, and see how he was shaking.

To see it on anyone else would’ve brought him enjoyment, but now all the masked man could feel was annoyance. To think this pathetic child was the son of an alpha wolf- of New Salem’s alpha, of all people. It was a mockery. Such a failure should’ve been smothered at birth. 

He did not voice these complaints, however. After all, he had said he was giving the boy another chance. Maybe this time he would give that bark some bite.

He raised the glass bottle. It was filled entirely to the neck.

“Lemon juice, salt, and rubbing alcohol,” he announced, “My home concoction. Need to make sure we get deep into those open sores, scrub out all the bacteria before you develop blood poisoning.”

He toasted Clawd.

“Cheers,” he announced, tipping the bottle over and pouring it over Clawd’s head.

Clawd let out a scream and began to flail about in his seat as the sterile liquid made contact with his lesions.

“ARGH! IT BURNS!” he screeched, “STOP, STOP PLEASE!”

The mixture felt like acid as it stung his cuts and eyes and he felt nauseous as he became enveloped in the overwhelming scent of citrus and alcohol.

“How’s that feel? That hurt yet? Don’t quit on me now!” the masked man yelled at him, stretching his arm out and slapping him across the face.

Clawd cried out and continued to scream as the masked man poured the entire bottle over him, getting his back, his arms, his chest, and his legs. Fresh, diluted blood seeped from the gashes as blood clots that had formed were broken up.

“What are you gonna do?!” the masked man questioned, getting in Clawd’s face, “This your life on the line! Are you gonna fucking fight for it or lay down like a goddamn man’s dog?!”

He grabbed Clawd’s shoulder and dug his fingers into one of the cuts from the barbed wire, drawing blood. Clawd just screamed louder, nearly hyperventilating as he bowed his head sobbed. Snot and tears dripped off his nose.

The masked man stared at him, his other hand clenching the bottle tightly as anger burned deeply in his chest. He gritted his teeth behind his mask, feeling revulsion at the sight of the teen werewolf.

“Pathetic,” he spat, “Look at you. Sniveling and whining like a newborn pup yearning for its mother’s teat. You disgust me. You’re not a wolf, not even a lowly dog.”

“Kill me,” Clawd begged, “Just kill me, already, you son of a bitch! If you think I’m so low, then _KILL ME!” _

He shot a desperate glare to the masked man. The latter just shook his head, like he was disappointed.

“No,” he replied, “You won’t die yet. You’re not deserving of that mercy.”

He didn’t even do anything else. He just turned and phased through the walls, leaving the wet, sobbing werewolf alone once again.

Clawd panted and gasped for breath, a panic attack now in full force. He leaned from side to side, desperately tugging at the handcuffs to free himself, even though after all this time there was no even a scratch on them. His ankles pinched as he yanked them against their cuffs. Droplets of blood and disinfectant splattered on to the floor as he twisted in his seat.

His vision as blurred as he looked up to the ceiling and started screaming.

“HELP!” he shouted, “SOMEONE, HELP! PLEASE, GET ME OUT OF HERE! PLEASE, LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! MOM, DAD! CLAWDEEN, LAURA! SOMEONE, PLEASE! PLEASE HELP ME!”

He screamed until his voice went hoarse and his throat felt raw. Clawd lowered his head and continued to cry. “Please, I wanna go home…

“Please,” he begged tearfully, “Just let me die already…”

His strength quickly wore out until he could do nothing but weep, all the while quietly praying to the gods above that someone would finally put him out of this misery.

* * *

(_Earlier, just before Grindylow and Firth’s meeting…)_

The hallways of Monster High were packed, yet they were deathly quiet. Save for the occasional closing of lockers and rustling around in backpacks, the large population of students was unusually silent; it was like a TV someone had turned the volume down on until it was almost on mute.

Save for a few people, nobody made small talk. Everyone’s faces were grim, many heading towards their classes without even sparing a look towards their friends or their classmates as they passed them by. When others did spare a glance, it was that of longing and sadness towards a few lockers.

The lockers, specifically, which belonged to the missing students.

Cleo and Deuce walked through the halls together, the two of them holding hands. Cleo lacked her usual haughtiness and vigor and instead, somewhat unlike herself, she kept her gaze on her shoes, looking up only to avoid someone in her path or turn the corner. Deuce had his brows knitted together in an expression of nervousness, his shoulders slightly slumped.

They walked to Mr. Hack’s room and stopped right outside the door. Cleo turned to Deuce and looked up at him, a soft look on her olive features. In an uncharacteristic gesture, she slowly went forward and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a gentle hug. She reached up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” she asked Deuce in a low voice.

Deuce shook his head, “I can’t. I need to get my immunization records together so my mom can mail them out. Plus…I was hoping to visit Silvi and Heath if I had some time.”

Cleo nodded. She watched his face, noting the ever-so subtle way his lip quivered and how his jaw tightened. She cupped his cheek in a reassuring gesture.

“Okay,” she said. Even with his eyes covered, she could feel the tension in his muscles from stress. He’d been calling her every night for the past week, unable to get much sleep. The knowledge that he had known pretty much almost everyone who had gone missing was starting to weigh on him heavily. This latest incident the night before with Heath couldn’t have helped matters.

_“He’s my best friend, Cleo,” _the gorgon had sobbed to her last night, ”_What if he had ended up like Clawd and Gil? What-w-what if he hadn’t made it?” _

_“But he did,” _Cleo had said softly to him, “_And you’re not going to help him or yourself by getting caught up in thousands of hypotheticals.” _

“Remember to be a good boy while you’re there,” she commented in an attempt of humor, “If you’re not, they won’t give you a lollipop for your booster shot or even a cute band-aid.” 

Deuce gave a small half-smile, appreciating the gesture to cheer him up. He pulled her close and pressed her forehead to his chest; he tilted his head down to kiss her head.

“I love you,” he murmured to her, “Stay safe.”

“I’m only going to class, silly,” Cleo joked, giving him a smile.

They shared a kiss, before they separated. They held hands for a little bit longer, before Cleo squeezed his and made her way into classroom.

Her friends were gathered at their usual spot, all of waiting quietly for the bell to start instead of gossiping like they usually were. Clawdeen sat with her cheek resting on her palm, staring glumly ahead at the chalkboard, while Laura had crossed her arms and rested her head on them, looking equally as miserable. Frankie fidgeted in her seat as she fidgeted with a button on her sweater. Ghoulia had a book out in front of her, though it was obvious she wasn’t really reading, based on how she stayed stuck on the same pages.

Laura looked in her direction as she approached them and gave a half-hearted wave. “Hey, Cleo.”

“Hey,” the mummy greeted as she took a seat besides Ghoulia. She looked to Frankie. “Any update?”

Franke sighed and slumped in her seat, crestfallen. “I messaged Neighthan and he says Isi is going to be fine-she’ll be out of school for the next few weeks, though. Jackson…physically, he says Heath will be okay, too. But…he’s not taking it well at all.”

They all looked at her. Clawdeen reached over and put a hand on her shoulder in comfort.

“Hey, y’all, mind if ah join ya?” Operetta asked as she walked up to them.

They gave her a glance, before they all scooted over a bit to give her some room. Operetta took a seat next to Cleo with a small mutter of thanks; on any other day, it would’ve been a definite, almost humorous sign something was up, with Operetta voluntarily sitting next to _Cleo _of all people without even a small complaint. With the current social atmosphere, however, there was no humor to be found.

The ghouls looked at Operetta as she quietly pulled out her books. Clawdeen was the first one to ask the question on their minds.

“…How’s Scarah doing, by the way?” she asked in a low voice, “I…I heard from Spectra that you and Johnny visited her this morning before school.”

Operetta paused. She stared ahead at the front of the room, blankly before she glanced back down at her bag with a sigh.

“She was asleep,” she answered, “But the doctor said she was doin’ good so far. I mean, she ain’t never gonna _talk _again, but at least she’s alive…”

They all immediately lapsed into silence. The minute the elephant in the room was brought up, they could all feel the awkwardness. Nobody tried to make further conversation after that. Instead, they all turned forward and gave their attention to Mr. Hack as he entered the room.

“All right, students, voices off!” Mr. Hack commanded, “Get out yer books and turn to page hundred and forty-two…”

The lesson started out as it usually did, despite the obvious cloud of rigidity that hung over the students. Many still tried to listen to Mr. Hack, though others seemed to anxious or preoccupied to even bother flipping through their textbooks. After fifteen minutes, however, as Mr. Hack was writing on the board, that someone finally snapped.

“Now, as you can see,” Mr. Hack explained, “Nucleosides consist of a sugar base that is linked to either to purine and pyrimidine and that is the final structure. Nucleotides, however, have one phosphate group attached to-“

“This is bullshit,” a student suddenly spoke up.

Mr. Hack paused. The students, including the ghouls, turned in their seats to look at the person who had made the comment. It had been a werecat boy sitting near the front row, who leaned back in his chair as he regarded the teacher with an angry expression.

They all stared at him, shocked. A few glanced between him and Mr. Hack as the latter turned around to face them.

Mr. Hack gave the werecat a small glare.

“I beg your pardon?” he questioned.

“This whole thing is nonsense,” the werecat continued, “Can we _please _stop acting like things are normal? I mean, come on, we can all feel it!”

He turned in his seat to look at the rest of the class. “Are we really going to just sit here and act like we’re not all being picked off one by one like fucking prize chickens? Between the day before yesterday and today, there’s been three ghouls going missing, one who’s been found alive, and Burns and all them just got fucking attacked!

“That puts the number of missing up to _fourteen_,” he emphasized, “I mean, fucking- Moorey and Harper are dead! What are all we all waiting for, the whole to fucking blow up!”

“Young man,” Mr. Hack interjected, a disapproving scowl on his face, “If you have something to say about the recent event in the news and feel like there’s additional measures that should be taken, you can take it up with the headmistress-“

“Good!” the werecat interrupted, shooting out of his seat, “At least she’d understand that this whole fucking charade you’re all trying to put up isn’t working!

“We can’t play sports or host clubs, the whole town’s on a curfew every night. I mean, fuck, my mom feels like she has to call and text me every hour even when I’m _here _to make sure I haven’t been abducted in the bathroom or something!” he exclaimed, “This isn’t normal what we’re doing! Sixteen people from one school going missing and two of them ending up dead isn’t normal! So why the hell are we all still trying to act like it is?!”

There was some murmur among the other students. Some of them began nodding in agreement and adding in their own comments.

“Why are even _in _school at this point? If everyone of the missing kids is someone who goes here, for all we know, the person responsible is here too!” someone pointed out.

“Abbey Bominable was taken from her _bedroom _and there was no evidence as to how, but the news barely touched on it,” a female air elemental pointed out.

“For all we know, this is part of their plan!” a vampire exclaimed, “One of them’s working on the school board and convinced them to keep things running like this so they could still keep an eye on whoever the hell they want to take next!”

The chatter grew. Mr. Hack frowned and slammed his hand down on his desk to try and cease the noise.

“That’s enough!” he ordered, “Now is not the time for all talking about mindless gossip-“

“Then when _will _it be the right time?!” the werecat who had started the chatter questioned him, his brows furrowed his frustration, “When half of the whole goddamn school goes missing without a trace?!

“Why do you and the rest of the teachers insist on trying to ignore this or act like things aren’t as bad as they are?!” he further probed, “Monsters are dying and disappearing all around us, so why the hell are we even trying by this point?!”

It was hard to tell whether he was angry or just being hysterical, but either way, now more students were riled up. They looked at Mr. Hack with varying looks of either contempt or panic.

Mr. Hack opened his mouth, but right as he was about to respond, everyone heard a loud wailing sound coming from the outside. They all turned their heads towards the window; the sound, coming from somewhere in the distance, grew louder as it seemed to come closer.

A few of the students got up from their seats and walked towards the window to see what it was. Clawdeen was among them, being the one in the row who sat closest to the windows. Her and a few other students put their faces near the glass to try and get a better view.

Off in the distance, a few miles away from the school, three police cars raced down the road, their sirens on and their lights flashing bright blue and red even in the daylight. They cut straight through the red lights and stop signs at intersections. An ambulance followed closely behind them, its lights and siren also flashing.

Clawdeen felt a sense of dread begin to settle over her as she watched the emergency vehicles speed. It grew as she realized they seemed to head towards the direction of her neighborhood.

“Please don’t turn right,” she mumbled to herself, “Please don’t turn right…”

Her wish was not granted, and the dread became the size of a boulder as the ambulance and cop cars turned right at the stop sign that led to Radcliffe Way.

It was all she could do was pray that they weren’t meant for her family.

* * *

_(A few nights ago…)_

He knew he was going to be dead soon.

It didn’t take an oracle to know that. Gil could feel it in his bones- each breath came in a little shallower than the last, his heart struggled a little bit more to keep pumping, and every time he awoke, it became a little bit harder for him to open his eyes.

His body was shutting down on him. His muscles and organs couldn’t take the damage to them. With every blow and every toxic substance he was forced to ingest or breathe, another part of him quickly began to die inside.

It wouldn’t be long until his heart gave out. Or one of his gills collapsed and he suffocated in his own body. It was either one of those or the masked man snapping his neck in the coming days.

Interestingly, Gil found he didn’t fear the thought as much as he thought it would’ve. Maybe it was the fact that he was spacing out more and therefore his comprehension was starting to fade in and out- kind of like he was having an out-of-body experience. Maybe it was the poison numbing his mind so he couldn’t really consider and think clearly about the consequences.

Maybe there was a small part of him that looked forward to it; it was a horrible ending, but it was the end. The end to this hell he had landed in and a way out of the masked man’s grip.

Either way, Gil found he didn’t mind. There wasn’t much he could do about it, anyway; no matter how hard he tugged his wrists and tore at his scales, the handcuffs and the chain they were tied to wouldn’t give. He couldn’t get up and run- he didn’t have lungs, without water he’d only asphyxiate in the empty air. However long he’d been here, he’d been given no food, so his body was too weak to carry himself if he did manage to get free. All in all, he was damned.

He could only pray that it would be quick. So he could finally be at peace and be free from the pain.

Perhaps there was a chance Lagoona was already there, waiting for him on the other side.

Gil felt tears prick his eyes. _Oh, Lagoona, _he thought, a pang striking his chest. He missed his love so much; every time he thought about her, it was like someone was ramming a giant nail into his heart. The time during sophomore year when his parents had forced him to transfer was nothing compared to this living nightmare. The fear and worry over her made him unable to sleep, and sometimes were so great that all he could do was weep.

He missed all of them. Lagoona, his parents, his friends, his teachers. It had felt like a thousand years had passed since he had seen anyone else. For all he knew, it could’ve been years already and everyone had since assumed he was dead. Time was hard to gauge in this setting- it could’ve been five months or five years, or ten, maybe even a hundred. Maybe it had been a thousand years and everyone he had knew and loved had since grown beyond all recognition or had since died, for his non-immortal friends.

Now, stuck in the same lying position he’d been in ever since he had been brought here, his shoulders screaming from the permanent elevated position they’d been forced into, his skin blistered and bleeding, his own smell making his stomach churn, he looked up at the steel ceiling.

“If there’s anyone who can hear me,” he croaked sorrowfully, “Please, whatever happens, keep her safe. If I…i-if I don’t make it out of here, let her be the one that does. Whatever life I have to give, give it to her. She’s never done anything but try and help people. Please just…i-if she’s not already gone, let her find some way out…”

He would’ve said more, but that alone made his throat feel like he’d been gargling sand and stopped. Gil slumped back in the tub and stared at the wall, retreating in the place that he’d carved out in his mind to escape the grueling long hours that only furthered messed with his head. The stagnant water in the tub was tainted with his blood and tasted like it came from a used toilet.

His eyelids soon felt heavy, and Gil resigned himself to sleep, one the precious few escapes he could get in here. He awoke sometime later to the sound something being dragged across the ground. It was followed up by the sound of something liquid-y splashing into something- a few drops of which flecked onto his face.

Groaning, Gil opened his eyes. His head was hurting something fierce- it was like someone was repeatedly smashing him right in the forehead with a sledgehammer. The pain was so severe it felt like his eyeballs were going to burst at any second.

He heard a small humming sound to his right. Slowly, he turned his head to look- the simple act made him feel like his skull was splitting in two- and saw the masked man had returned. He stood a few feet away from Gil, his attention on the large plastic container he’d brought with him.

There was something weird about their setup. Gil squinted, analyzing what he was seeing. The container had been filled with water. On each side, a flat sheet of metal had been placed, both of which had a pair of gator clamps hooked on to the tops. At each end of the clamps was a set of wires that ran around the length of the tub, before they ended in a color-coded port of what looked to be a large power supply. There was an on-off button and a dial on the front where the wires were.

Gil furrowed his brows. He had a faint memory of seeing a set-up like this before but couldn’t remember where in the moment.

He felt eyes on him and looked up. He should’ve been used to it, but even now he couldn’t help but shrink back as he saw the masked man had turned to him.

“I have a new lesson for you today,” the masked one said, “This one should be a little bit familiar to you, actually. I know you talked with your sea slut once or twice before about becoming one of those dick-lipped engineers that help keep the dams from flooding the cities.”

“O-Oh yeah? H-How would you know?” Gil mumbled, giving the latter a bitter glare.

The masked man chuckled, “It probably doesn’t surprise you at this point, but I’ve been watching you all for a while now. I hear things hear and there.”

He gestured to the tank by his feet. “Now is another one of your tests. We already saw the direct results of when contaminants get in the water. But, as I told Lagoona-“

“Don’t say her name!” Gil shouted, a feeling of anger coming over him at the nerve of the fiend responsible for all this talking about his ghoul.

The masked man pulled back a little and stared at him for a moment, seemingly surprised by the small amount of bite that still remained in the river monster. He shook his head like he thought Gil was being ridiculous.

“As I told _her,” _he repeated, obnoxiously emphasizing the last word, “Man-made toxins are not the only threat to your people’s home environment. There are many other factors that make the water unhabitable.

“Like algae, for example,” he continued, “They thrive in warm waters. And when they thrive, they grow. And when they grow? They suck up all the nutrients out of the water and leave none for the rest. They also release a shit ton of toxins that kill pretty much everything, but that’s another test.”

He gestured to the plastic bin. “Can you guess where I’m going with this?”

It hit Gil where he had seen such a contraption before. His mind connected its relevance to the comment of algae; he felt his heart sink when he realized what the masked man had in mind. 

“Come on, you’re the future engineer, you should recognize what this is for,” the masked man teased.

“It…i-it’s an electrolysis tank,” Gil answered, “I-I-It separates the hydrogen and oxygen molecules in water and turns them into gas.”

The masked man nodded. “Good! Then you see my point- as these algae grow, they suck up all the precious oxygen. It’s not just them, either- oxygen’s less soluble in warm water anyway, so even without the little buggers, it wouldn’t belong before you’d all be baking alive like lobster in a seafood restaurant.”

He pointed a finger at Gil, “Monsters like you are especially fragile. Your ghoulfriend, she at least as some lungs in addition to the gills. As long as she’s on land keeps herself wet, she’ll be fine for a while. But you, you can’t take in air. The ocean dies and you have nowhere to go.”

Gil couldn’t stop himself from whimpering and cringed as if struck as the masked man came forward. He didn’t even try to fight back as the latter unlocked the larger chain and used the one linking his handcuffs to yank him to his feet. He didn’t have the strength to try.

“We don’t have long,” the masked man commented, “The oxygen will evaporate immediately, so we better hurry.”

“No…n-no, please,” Gil begged weakly as he was hauled to his feet. His legs felt like brittle twigs about to snap; had the masked man not just as quickly dragged him over to the tub, he would’ve collapsed right away.

The masked man turned him around and forced him to his knees. With a quickness that defied his large broad build, but also with a strength that drove it home, he grabbed the river monster’s ankles one by one and forced him into the tub, all the while keeping a hold on him by his upper arms.

“Please…” Gil rasped out, looking up at the masked man with glassy pink eyes, “Please don’t do this…”

“Shhh,” the masked man whispered to him. His tone was surprisingly gentle, “Just let go. It will all be over soon.”

He leaned forward and shoved Gil under the water. He bent over so he could hold the struggling teen down, his grip on Gil’s arms like a vice.

The minute his face went underneath, Gil could tell the electrolysis had been at work. He choked as water filled his gills; instead of being rejuvenating, the deoxygenated water was bitter in his mouth and was painful to his scarred throat. It was like a land monster being forced to inhale smoke in a house fire. His skin burned from the acidity of the hydrogen atoms in the water. He could hear a faint hum from the electrolysis machine.

He kicked and hit at the masked man weakly. Through the blurriness of the water, all he could see was the menacing dark shape hovering above him, the bird mask looking as menacing as the fin of a great white shark breaking the ocean’s surface.

“Please…” Gil begged from under the water, bubbles rushing up from his mouth, “Please, I-I can’t breathe…”

The masked man just continued to hold him down. He suddenly let one arm go to take out of the water, his other moving to press against Gil’s chest. Its weight felt like a giant boulder against him.

The light above him was suddenly blocked as a large, dark mass exploded right above Gil’s face. He squinted at the strange cloud that spread out over the waves of the water, the coloring a strange mix of tawny brown and a reflective silver color that was like a liquid mirror; the material quickly sank to the bottom of the tank and got into his eyes, making them feel like someone was scraping at his corneas with a knife.

He inhaled some of it by accident; Gil jerked and started fighting more. Now, he _really _couldn’t breathe. There was a metallic taste in his mouth and his gills erupted in agony. He struggled harder, realizing that the masked man had dumped copper and mercury into the water.

“Please…” he begged under the water, his voice weaker.

The masked man didn’t budge. He moved his hands back to Gil’s arms and pressed him against the floor of the tank. Through the metal cloud and Gil’s damaged eyesight, he was nothing more than a menacing black blob hovering over the water like a storm cloud.

Gil choked. His feet kicked at the bottom of the tub to no avail. There was a fire starting to erupt in his chest from lack of oxygen. His eyes stung and his throat felt like he had just swallowed battery acid.

Something suddenly built up in his throat. He coughed and sputtered and felt something burst from his lips; a sudden cloud of red bloomed in front of him- his own blood.

He grasped the masked man’s wrists in panic. The fire in his chest quickly grew into a raging inferno as his gills felt like they were being shredded and scorched.

A numbness began to come over him. His struggling began to lessen as he felt a sudden heaviness in his limbs, like they had been injected with cement. His grip on the masked man began to weaken.

The pain his chest grew worse. Yet, he could feel himself begin to grow lightheaded. Black spots appeared in front of his vision. The numbness had spread up his body.

Dimly, Gil realized what was happening.

Yet, he felt no fear. Part of him even welcomed what was to occur.

He closed his eyes just as they pricked with tears. The lightheadedness grew and he could feel himself slowly beginning to drift away.

_Mom, Dad, Lagoona, I’m sorry, _he thought to himself, _But I can’t hold on. My body’s all broken up and it’s not strong enough. I love you all so much. _

_Lagoona, if you’re still out there, let me give you what I left. _

_If you’re already on the other side…then I’ll be joining you soon. _

As the masked man continued to hold him under the water, Gil felt his body slacken as the rest of his will finally broke down.

His senses turned off, and soon, it all went dark.

* * *

(_Now…)_

Grindylow and Firth arrived on the scene just as a member of the forensics team was blocking off the site of the lot with crime scene tape. Vitae and a few uniformed officers stood around the edge of the fence that was closest to the train tracks. There was a gathering of small trees and scraggly bushes that grew near a hole in the chain-link there. 

Near where they stood, Grindylow could see the corner of a white sheet fluttering in the small breeze. He stiffened, knowing right away what they were in for.

Vitae perked up at the sound of gravel crunching under their shoes and turned to see them coming towards them. Her maroon painted lips were drawn into a tight frown.

“What are we looking at?” Grindylow asked tiredly.

She didn’t answer him right away and just turned on her heel, motioning for him and Firth to follow her. Her colleague lifted up the tape for them to pass under as she led them to where the flora was.

“Dispatchers were called in an hour ago,” she explained, “Some homeless men or travelers or whatever had snuck in past the blockades to scope out a place to squat for the night or something when one of their dogs started barking. They were gone before we showed up, but it didn’t take long to find what their objects of concern.”

She led them around a small group of shrubs and made a gesture with her hand.

Spaced out on the rough ground, three white sheets had been laid on the ground. All three were stained with blood; he could see the outline of a foot sticking up from one of them. Grindylow closed his eyes and sighed. _Just fucking great. _

Him and Firth went past Vitae to the closest sheet. He knelt down and grabbed the edge of the sheet to pull it back, exposing the body underneath.

He bowed his head and sighed, quickly realizing he recognized the face. This one belonged to that of a young werewolf girl- probably no older than sixteen or seventeen. Her hair, dyed a now faded purple, was matted and greasy and hung wildly around her face and shoulders. The light grey fur on her face was crusted with dried blood and dirt, her once soft features marred by a series of gruesome injuries- the most horrific being a large chemical burn that went from the bottom of her chin all the way up to her left cheek, right under her eye. Dried brown blood made a line down her philtrum. Her right eye was swollen with a healing black eye.

Grindylow glanced down further under the sheet. There were four holes cut into the side of her neck, as if she’d been poked with a large needle. They were far too big to belong to just an ordinary syringe, however. They were deep and dark red, like they’d been made from board nails or a drill.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his notepad. He flipped through several pages, before he landed on one that had a photograph paperclipped to the side. The resemblance between it and the ghoul under the sheet was uncanny.

“She one of ours?” Firth asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Grindylow let out another sigh and pulled the sheet back over the ghoul’s face.

“Yeah,” he affirmed, “She’s definitely one of them.”

He remembered her name. Ascena, the other she-wolf that had been missing. Her and her boyfriend had been kidnapped from his house when his parents were out. And if she was here right now, that could only mean one thing…

He stood up and walked over to the other body. He flipped back the sheet and his suspicions were proven correct as he gazed upon the broad shouldered dark grey werewolf underneath. The poor boy’s injuries were just as bad as his ghoulfriend’s, with his face and collarbone area being covered in a multitude of cuts, burns, bruises, and stab wounds. The worst of them by far, however, was the fact that the corners of his mouth had been torn from ear to ear, leaving his lower jawbone almost completely detached from the rest of his skull and hanging on only by a few tendons.

With all his decades in the force, Grindylow had always considered himself to be much less squeamish than some of his colleagues, but even now the horrific wound managed to make the back of his throat burn with the threat of bile.

He heard Firth approach. The cyborg detective let out a sound of disappointment.

“Dougey Hairris,” he muttered, “The one whose house tapes we looked at.”

Grindylow nodded wearily. “The guy clearly took his time with both of them. But, who is the third one?”

They walked over to the third sheet. As they approached, they were suddenly hit with a stench that reminded Grindylow of rotting fish. Firth was the one to squat this time and lifted up the sheet, allowing them both a view of the final unfortunate victim.

The smell hit Grindylow like a ton of bricks as they gazed upon the dead river monster teen. Firth shooed away flies that were already starting to get to the body.

“Gil Webber,” Grindylow answered, covering his nose with his hand, “He was the one who was taken as he was leaving the gym with his ghoulfriend.”

Firth nodded, “So three more bodies to add to this guy’s list. He’s definitely not trying to get a ransom out of any of the parents. Probably wants to send a message, but who knows what it could be.”

“Oh he’s sending a message all right,” Grindylow muttered as he caught sight of something underneath Gil. He pulled out one of his gloves from his pocket and put it on, before he leaned down and reached over Firth’s shoulder to tug it out from under the river monster.

He stood back up to look at it. It was a folded sheet of paper, stained bright green from Gil’s blood. Firth watched him as he unfolded the paper and read it, Grindylow’s dark green eyes growing hard and hateful as he did so.

“What’s it say?” Firth asked.

“Just more of the fucking smart little shit showing off,” Grindylow muttered angrily as his hands clenched in the paper, creating small wrinkles.

_Hope u all like my gift this time, _the note said, _Got you some fresh wolf skins and a nice fish dinner for u! I would remain cautious about the trout, tho. He’s a little bit contaminated like tuna, if u catch my drfit ;D _

“Fucking sick son of a whore,” the elder bog monster spat as he resisted the urge to rip the paper up into little pieces. Instead he turned to a member of the forensics team who was standing nearby and held it out to her.

“I want this scanned for prints immediately,” he ordered, “Prints, phantom residue, anything and everything.”

“Yes, sir,” the investigator said as she took a hold of the paper with a pair of tweezers and slipped it into a plastic evidence bag.

After she left, Firth covered the body again and gave him a look.

“So now out of sixteen missing kids, we now have six recovered- only one of which is still alive,” he commented, “How should we proceed with these three?”

Grindylow looked back at each of the bodies. He frowned, his lips pressing into a tight thin line as he thought about the three of them. He thought of their lifeless faces and the signs of obvious torture that had been inflicted on them.

Sometimes, he really hated this job.

Finally, the old dark green monster took a deep breath and answered Firth.

“The same way we proceeded with the first two deaths,” he said, “We get the bodies loaded up, we call up the families and talk to them.”

Otherwise known as the part that Grindylow dreaded the most. He thought back to when they had first found the Surrey boy and Quill ghoul’s bodies- Moorey’s mother actually fainted the moment they showed her the photographs and they had to escort his father out after the poor man had started yell and punch at the plexiglass window in his grief. Harper’s parents both had just fallen and started screaming and crying.

There was no joy ever to be brought in having to tell a parent that their child was dead, nor having to ask them to identify certain things on a body to confirm that it was their dead child. But it had to be done- Grindylow had known this for many years. 

As a second thought, though, he did turn to Firth and commented, “Better call Qualmi while we’re at it. These monster families are tightly knit- we’re bound to have quite a few breakdowns in the waiting room.”

Firth nodded in understanding and reached into his pocket to call the werelynx forensics therapist who was back at the department.

They headed for their patrol car, both of them internally bracing themselves for the scene that they knew was going to occur in the next hour. There was going to be a lot of tears, a lot of anger, and a lot of questions they still didn’t have the answers for, and it was going to take all they could to not break down with the parents.

* * *

(_Two hours later…)_

For a while, Harriet kept her gaze glued to the front of the windshield, her whole body stiff and frozen like any small movement would set a major disaster. She sat with her back straight against the seat; it was uncomfortable, but she was too tense to relax. Her hands sat neatly folded in her lap, her fingers laced together so her fingertips pressed down tightly against her knuckles.

She tried to keep her face neutral, in the event that they passed someone who looked into the window of the car and recognized her; she didn’t want anyone guessing something had gone down. However, it was hard, however, with her heart feeling like someone was squeezing it tightly in their fist and twisting it various ways to try and rip it apart. Her hands were trembling in their locked position.

Harriet spared a glance to the left. Clawrk’s eyes looked out the front in an intense stare, his jaw tight as he clenched his teeth together. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white, and Harriet could see his veins popping out on the back of his hand and down his forearm. His movements were stiff as he turned the wheel at a light, like he couldn’t quite move his body.

Silently, Harriet slid her hand from her lap and ran it up his arm, so her palm was covering his right hand. Clawrk finally broke his concentration to look at her. For the first time that day, Harriet gave him a small, gentle smile.

Clawrk gave her a small half-smile that didn’t reflect the emotions in his eyes, though he took his hand away from the wheel to lace his fingers with hers. Their embrace was tight, as if they were hanging on to one another for dear unlife.

And in a way they were. With the destination they were heading towards, they were going to need to lean on one another’s strength with all they had. Not only for themselves, but their children and their pack.

Dread churned both their stomachs violently and put them on the edge. Neither of them was looking forward to the trip ahead. That morning, right as Harriet put the twins down for a nap and Clawrk was doing some paperwork on his laptop, their radio had paused in its regular music session as the DJ announced there had been a breaking news update in the case of the missing kids.

Harriet’s blood went ice cold as he explained that the sheriff confirmed that three bodies had been found that morning by the lot where the lot of the now-demolished boarding house near Howlisades Boolevard.

She had whipped right around to find Clawrk staring right at her, the same exact look on his face, his hands hovering above his keyboard, frozen.

Two seconds passed between them before they both bolted out the house and to their car, eager to get some answers.

Harriet looked back out the front as the large sign that gave the direction of the police and fire stations came into view. She swallowed and tried to take a deep breath. It came out shakier than she had wanted it do.

Clawrk pulled into the visitor’s lot of the police station and hurriedly turned the car off. They came around to the front and grabbed each other’s hands once again as they speed walked up to the front doors of the station.

“Harriet!” a voice called from behind them.

The two alphas turned to see Romulus’s mother, Rhea, and her husband rushing along down the sidewalk.

“You heard too?” Harriet asked.

Rhea nodded. Her red hair was disheveled about her face from the slight exertion of running. “It was on the news when I woke up. Do you think…?”

“I’m not thinking anything until I actually get answers,” Harriet said quickly.

She wasn’t going to cross that line. Not yet. Not if she had no reason to. If she let herself fall down that rabbit hole, she wouldn’t be able to crawl back out.

The four of them went through the double doors of the police station, intent on asking the front desk woman if there was a chance Detective Grindylow was in and they could talk to them.

Right as they entered the building, however, they stopped short as they almost ran into a group of individuals who stood right near the doorway. They looked over their shoulder at the quartet and stepped out of the way of the entrance, allowing them to get closer.

A decent size crowd had gathered around the front desk all of them looking angry, scared, or nervous. Harriet recognized them all as being parents of her children’s classmates.

More specifically, they were all the parents of the children who had gone missing. All of them had obviously thought the same thing they had.

“-want some damn answers already!” she heard Manny’s father say angrily as he jabbed his finger into the granite of the front desk, “They’re our children, we deserve to find out what’s going on!”

The poor flustered-looking secretary looked out at the crowd as the other parents yelled out questions and demands. She raised her hands in an attempt to get them to calm down.

“I know you all have questions that you want answered, but until the chief gets down here, there’s nothing I can do!” she exclaimed.

“So then call him or something and we’ll meet him halfway!” Arachne demanded, “Whatever it is, I’m not fucking leaving until I find out what’s going on!”

Harriet and Clawrk weaved past the others and made their way to the wall to be out of the way of the officers who were going to and from the building. Leaning up against it were Lagoona’s Aunt Coral and Toralei’s foster parents.

Slightly in front of Harriet, Dougey’s mother, Fauve, crossed her arms impatiently as she frowned in the direction of where the other detectives’ offices were. Her husband, Howlex, waited beside her.

“This is getting fucking ridiculous,” she muttered to Harriet and Rhea, “Do they just expect us wait around forever?”

“They’re probably still sorting out paperwork and whatnot,” Harriet suggested, “Making sure they have everything in order.”

Fauve snorted, “Don’t know what else they can get in order. Considering they’ve had no fucking leads, I doubt their list of suspects is looking long.”

Harriet looked at the back of her head as the blonde turned her gaze back to the offices. She shared a look with Rhea, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. Fauve was trying to act like she was just pissed off, but Harriet had known her long enough to understand that it was merely a front; not that she wasn’t naturally brusque, but she tended to play up her toughness as a means to cover up whenever she was feeling really emotional and didn’t want anyone to see.

From the way she kept tapping her foot and brushing back her hair from her shoulder, which was short enough that it didn’t even touch, though, Harriet knew she was just as anxious as the rest of them.

“Goddammit, what’s taking them so long!” Meowlody and Purrsephone’s father suddenly exclaimed, “We’ve been here for almost a damn hour, are they coming or not?!”

The secretary glanced at her computer, “T-They are here! But they have to get some things together, and then they’ll talk with you guys!”

That only succeeded in a chorus of protests and snarls from the parents, who were all on the edge about the news of that morning. 

Just as they were about to voice more complaints- of which included a few nasty remarks- the door nearest to the right suddenly swung open, and Detective Grindylow and his partner stepped out.

He looked out upon the group of parents anxiously awaiting right outside. They all glared at him with a mix of impatience, dread, and fear. The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife.

He took a deep breath and let it exhale, before he stated, “Could the parents of Dougey Hairris, Ascena Scarikson, and Gillington Webber please step forward?”

They all exchanged looks with each other for a moment. Then, cautiously, Fauve and Howlex stepped forward. The two of them looked like a couple of prisoners headed to the noose.

After them, Clawrence and his wife Hairianna, Ascena’s parents, followed. They held each other’s hand tightly, and Hairianna looked like she was about to cry. From the left, slowly, Gil’s parents then approached them.

Grindylow nodded at each of them, before he gestured to Dougey’s parents.

“Come with me, you two,” he said softly.

He and Firth led them down the hallway into a room on the left. The two older wolves followed, Fauve sparing a questioning looks at the other parents over her shoulder. Harriet could see she was trying to keep a poker face, but the slight fear was evident in her eyes.

One of the other detectives, a poltergeist, looked towards Hairianna and Clawrence and put a hand on the latter’s arm.

“Sir, if you and your wife will follow me,” she directed, opening the door next to her and holding it with her arm.

Hairianna and Clawrence glanced at one another. The other werewolves could hear the former give out a slight whimper as she reached out and gripped his hand with now both of hers. Clawrence gave a small, reassuring growl and pulled her to his chest, keeping her cradled under his arm as he led the both of them into the room, the poltergeist following after them.

Finally, a fourth detective came up. He was a slightly squat bullfrog cryptid with beady yellow eyes and held a folder in his hands. He looked at Gil’s parents.

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Webber, correct?” he asked.

Slowly, they each nodded their heads. Gil’s father replied, “Y-Y-Yes, that would be us.”

The bullfrog gave a small nod. “Then come with me, please.”

“W-Why?” Gil’s father questioned, “W-What do you need to know?”

They watched the bullfrog give him a look that was slightly sad. “I…think it’s best if I told you in private,” he said.

They all watched as Gil’s father stood up straight. He sucked in a gulp of water through his gills and swallowed hard. He put an arm around his wife’s shoulders and, with both of them walking stiffly like they had just been on land for the first time, they agreed to go with him.

The rest of the monster parents watched as they disappeared into individual rooms. A silence settled upon the group as they all waited with bated breath over what whatever the detectives were talking with the parents about.

Most of them had a good idea what it was, but nobody had the courage to acknowledge it.

As a few minutes passed by, Harriet crossed her arms in anxiousness. She felt Clawrk slide his arm around her waist and leaned in to his side.

Next to them, Eyerene Clops spoke up, “They…they probably just are asking them a few questions, that’s all. M-Maybe they got an anonymous tip and wanted them to see if there was any validity to it.”

It was an attempt to try and raise everyone’s spirits, but Eyerene herself didn’t seem convinced from her own words. They all stared at her. She blushed sheepishly and shrugged. “I-It was just thought I had.”

Suddenly, a loud wail came from the room that Gil’s parents had gone into.

They all jumped and turned their heads towards the door. Behind it, someone let out another pained cry, before it dissolved in heavy, devastated sobs.

“_That’s him!” _Gil’s father could be heard crying out in the room, “_That’s my son! My boy! My baby boy! N-No, not him! Not my little boy…” _

He cut himself off with the harshest, most heartbreaking cry that ever seemed to come from a grown man. It was followed up by the sounds of Gil’s mother bawling, which were followed up with her own shrill bawling.

The door suddenly burst open. The bullfrog had both parents by the arms, each river monster looking hysterical. Gil’s mother’s chest was racked with sobs as she cried her eyes out, the water sloshing in her helmet violently as she sucked in harsh breaths and let them out just as quickly with another round of sobbing. She sounded like she was on the verge of a panic attack.

His father, meanwhile, kept shaking his head back and forth as he cried equally as hard. One of the bullfrog’s colleagues came up to try and help him, as it seemed either parent was about to collapse.

The thought was correct, as right then, Gil’s mother’s legs quivered and gave out, and she fell onto her side onto the floor, where she curled up in a little ball and pressed her face into her arms as she cried. Her husband followed on top of her a second later, balling mindlessly.

“Gil! Gil, my Gil! Not him, not him!” Mrs. Webber cried and pounded her fist into the floor.

“No! No!” Mr. Webber bellowed, “NO-O!”

The other parents watched the scene in shock. The bullfrog and his assistant tried to pull them to their feet, but it was like the weight of their grief was keeping them anchored to the floor.

Coral finally made a move and hurried over to help the both of them. She put a hand on Mr. Webber’s shoulder and tried to get him into a sitting position.

“Hudson, come on now,” she said to him, “Don’t lose it now in front of everyone.”

He shrugged her off harshly and leaned back on his knees. He reared his head back and let out a devastating cry.

“No, NO!” he shouted, “Not my boy! Not my boy!”

Mrs. Webber threw herself at Coral, wrapping her arms around her waist and burying her face in her stomach as she let out a cry so loud it was almost a scream. Her husband joined her, hugging her back and crying into the back of her shoulder. Coral stood rigidly, looking unsure of what to do, before slowly, she awkwardly put her arms around Mrs. Webber’s shoulder and tried to comfort her.

Harriet turned to Clawrk. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“Gil’s…” she uttered to him, unable to even finish the sentence. Her heart felt like it was ripping in two as the reality of the cause of the reaction of the two river monsters before them sunk in.

She’d known Gil for a few years. He’d been over to their house plenty of times when him and Clawd hung out, he’d eaten dinner with their family, he slept over and laughed with them and even volunteered to help her and Clawrk whenever they were cleaning up. It was the same with Lagoona- she’d become a regular presence with them along with the rest of Clawdeen’s friends. They were both very close to Clawd and Clawdeen and in turn Harriet had become rather close to the both of them.

And now…now with this morning’s news…_No._

She brought her hands to her mouth as her eyes suddenly flooded with tears. A sudden weight came upon her shoulders and for a second, Harriet felt like her own legs were about to give out.

Clawrk saw it as well and immediately grabbed her to pull her into his chest. He rubbed her back and stroked her hair as she began to weep into his shirt. The rest of the group followed suit, with the women beginning to crumble and the men trying to comfort them or just looking unsure as to what to do.

The bullfrog and his colleague stood off to the side, watching as Coral comforted the two grieving parents. They didn’t look like they knew how to handle the situation either.

Just then, the door of the room that Hairianna and Clawrence had been led into swung open. They stepped out, the two of them looking pale and shaken. Clawrence was staring ahead blankly, while Hairianna held her fists to her mouth to try and muffle her sobs. Her shoulders jerked up with every one. Neither of them acknowledged Gil’s parents or the rest of the group as they walked forward.

“Clawrence?” one of the werewolf men called out, “What…what’s wrong? What did they say?”

The dark-haired bespectacled wolf didn’t reply. He stopped in front of them, still looking out at something imaginary.

“She’s dead…” he mumbled lowly.

“What?” someone asked, not hearing him.

“She’s dead,” the werewolf repeated a little louder, his voice laced with pain. He glanced at Clawrk and the other werewolves, “She’s dead. It was her among them. My baby, my precious little girl. That bastard, he…he…oh gods-“

He went silent as his face paled to a ghostly shade. Clawrk and the other fathers suddenly dove in to catch him as his knees suddenly crumbled out from under him. Manny and Romulus’s fathers managed to each grab hold of his upper arms and keep him from falling flat on his face.

That triggered the breaking point for Ascena’s mom, who let loose an ear-shattering howl of pain and broke down, burying her face in her hands. She started falling forward, and would’ve fell onto her knees painfully, had the other werewolf moms not managed to grab a hold of her. They held her in a group embrace, trying to comfort her as she sobbed in mourning.

“Oh god,” Clawrk whispered. He and Harriet shared another look, both of them gaping in horror as a terrifying realization came to both of them.

If there were three bodies, and two of them had been identified now, that could only mean-

“_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” _

As if on cue, they could hear Fauve scream from the room her and her husband had been in. It was a harsh, wounded sound, one that didn’t sound at all like it belonged to the normally brusque and tough she-wolf.

The door burst open, revealing Detective Grindylow and Firth. The expression on their faces was unreadable as they exited out of the room, with Firth turning and holding the door open to allow the remaining party to exit.

Howlex, face red and stony like he was trying to hold his emotions in, stepped out. In his arms, he dragged out a thrashing Fauve, who fought and thrashed in his hold. She was crying heavily- something that nobody in the pack had ever seen before.

“That’s not him, that’s not him!” she insisted, struggling against her husband as she tried to pull away to a direction down the hall- the direction where the mortuary was. “That can’t be him! That can’t be my baby! Not my baby!”

She bowed her head and cried, shaking her head as if it could dispel the harsh reality, loud whines like that of a wounded animal escaping her. It was an unnerving site to all the pack members; to see Fauve- tough, “take-no-shit”, steel-hardened resolve Fauve- so unwound and so destroyed seemed almost like a cruel joke.

“Not him!” Fauve cried out, “Not my baby! _Dougey!” _

With that, the fight seemed to go out of her. Howlex was now nearly carrying her as he helped to where the rest of the parents were waiting, like she couldn’t bare to stand on her own.

Clawrk, Harriet, and Rhea stepped forward cautiously. The latter reached out and touched Fauve’s arm. The minute the older blonde wolf saw her, she rushed at Rhea and threw her arms around her, nearly toppling both of them over. Rhea hugged her back tightly and allowed her to cry into her shoulder as she cradled the back of her head. Fauve’s cries were almost screams as she continued crying out Dougey’s name and begged for it all to be a cruel trick.

The men of the wolf pack gathered around Howlex as he pressed his back against the wall. He didn’t make a noise, but the torn, crushed look in his eyes was enough to communicate his feelings as he slid down to the floor and put his head in his hands. Clawrk put a hand on his shoulder in comfort, though he doubted it was of any help.

Behind them, the Webbers and the Scariksons were lost in their own grief. All around them, the other parents and the other members of the police force watched the scene with sadness and a bit of discomfort. Nobody knew what to do to help. Nobody knew if they could do anything to help.

So they did nothing more than stand, the anguished cries of the three couples hammering home the despair of the events that had taken the town by storm, and how incapable any of them were at changing it. 


	14. Chapter 13: Tempers Flaring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? SO actually manages to update within a reasonable time span?! A bit shorter than the usual, but save for the beginning and last scenes, it is a bit of a filler chapter, so oh well. I promise next chapter's going to be more plot-heavy.
> 
> Small warning that Romulus's scene contains a few comments of body horror and gore.

The Van Hellscream house was quite a sight to behold on 2991 Parkway Boulevard. With French doors for its front entrance, a vast colorful garden of various exotic flowers planted along the porch and placed along the walkway; strange, unique lawn ornaments that Lilith’s parents had obtained through their previous travel days decorating the grass, and a full sized fountain out front, it was certainly stood out amongst the more humbly-designed two stories. Some may have found it obnoxious, but nobody could deny that it was a testament to the grand legacy that was the Van Hellscream’s family history and their historical experiences around the world.

Right now, though, the large house was almost entirely silent. The only sound came from the living area, where Lilith, Clair, and Chad all sat on her couch, the three of the leaned forward and watching the TV intensely. Their faces were distraught, their eyes full of worry.

“…_police say that the note left at the crime scene is currently being looked at by a graphologist, but no suspects have been identified as of yet,” _the anchorwoman reported, “_In the meantime, they are still keeping their hotline open for anyone who may have any information relevant to the cases to call in. They say time is of the essence now more than ever.” _

Chad sat up slightly. He had his elbows resting against his knees, while his hands pressed up against his face as he watched the screen with shock. He dragged his hands down his mouth, which fell open in shock the more he read the words that flashed across the news banner at the bottom.

“Three deaths,” he commented in disbelief, “Just like that. Three whole deaths and a mass attack out of absolutely nowhere.”

Clair shook her head. Her bright green eyes were tinged with an unusual look of despair. “Poor Jackson,” she commented, “I can’t imagine what he must be going through.”

Lilith didn’t say anything. She continued listening to the anchorwoman, gauging every little detail and every name that was said. Her hands dug into the fabric of her leggings where they were resting in her lap.

Three more missing students from Monster High. Four other students attacked- one of them being Jackson’s cousin- and now, three more students dead, their bodies left in an lot for the animals to pick at.

And yet still, there were no suspects to be found.

The only thing anyone could tell was that whoever was behind all of this was a real sick fuck- and he was damn good at his job.

Unconsciously, Lilith’s eyes slid to the right. There, right near the entrance to the hall, a framed picture hung on the wall; it was an old photograph her father and uncle as teenagers, their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders as they grinned at the camera and held a large carp between them.

_Almost too good at his job, _she thought, _Like he somehow knows exactly how to make a getaway in the night, even with monsters having advanced senses. _

The thought was something she could no longer deny. The sneaking suspicion had turned into a full blown conspiracy in her mind as the news from the monster part of town became worse and worse. Before, she tried to give her uncle the benefit of the doubt, but now there was no doubt in her mind that her uncle was involved.

Maybe he wasn’t directly the one responsible- admittedly, he had had a few good alibis that lined up the nights that each new student was reported missing- but if he wasn’t doing it himself, he had to be working behind the scenes. Giving whoever was carrying out the deeds the tools for them to sneak away without a trace.

There was just no way that all the crime could’ve been this _perfect _without his involvement. He had spent years studying monsters, and he had a big enough grudge against the woman who had completely screwed up his plans that he knew _exactly _where to hurt her the most- her precious students.

“Lilith?”

She blinked and sat up straighter. She turned; Chad watched her with a slightly worried look in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked.

Lilith nodded, “Yeah, just…thinking. About everything.”

Clair regarded her with a look that silently said she could see right through her. She commented, “You think your uncle is for sure guilty.”

It wasn’t a question. Lilith sighed and glanced down at her nails, fiddling with one of her rings and chipping at her nail polish.

“I just don’t know what to do,” she said, “I just can’t ignore the feeling that he is the one behind all this, but I know if I confront him, he’ll just deny it and he’ll know I’m looking at him. But if I go to the police without any concrete evidence, it may cause more problems than it’s worth.”

Plus, she thought silently, on the off chance that he _wasn’t _guilty, she couldn’t bare to break her family apart over misinformation. As much as she believed he had some kind of role in this whole mess, Lilith couldn’t help but admit, begrudgingly, that there was a part of her that hoped it wasn’t.

“It’s not like you’re alone in your thinking,” Clair pointed out, “Draculaura told me that pretty much all the monsters think he did it.”

“Yeah, but still,” Lilith countered, “If he has nothing to do with it, this could just end up distracting the police and everyone from possible clues of the real killer. But if my uncle is involved, if he knows I’m onto him- given that we’re not exactly close as we used to be- he might take that as a means to get out before anyone has the chance to go after him.”

She pouted and rested her chin in her palm. “I can’t believe this is reality. This all sounds like one really badly written novel.”

Clair and Chad shared a look. Clair looked like she was about to respond, but just as she opened her mouth, they were all alerted to the loud roar of an engine from outside. It was followed up by the harsh squeals of tires against asphalt.

The trio looked over their shoulders at the front door, confused. Muting the TV for a second, Lilith got up and made her way there, curious to see what had happened to cause such a commotion. Chad and Clair followed closely behind her, equally interested.

Brushing aside the curtains, Lilith looked out the window to the front of the neighborhood, just in time to see Jackson’s car make a sharp turn around the corner of her street- the movement was so rapid she could see a bit of smoke coming up from the tires- and come zooming in towards the direction of her cul-de-sac. He was driving like he aimed to put the front of the car halfway through her dining room.

Lilith turned away from the window and hurried over to the front door. She opened it and stepped out onto the porch just as the car jerked to a stop in her driveway. The front door flew open and Holt stepped out, wearing the most pissed off expression she’d ever seen on his features.

He looked in her direction and his eyes blazed with fury. It took Lilith off guard a little; unconsciously, she took a step back. She could hear Clair and Chad stepping out behind her.

Holt pointed an accusing finger at her and started for the front porch.

“I want to know everything you know,” he demanded, “And if you’re lying to me, I _will _know it immediately.”

Chad said, “Holt, man, just calm-“

The blue skinned teen ignored him as he marched up right up to Lilith and got in her face, at the same time roughly grabbing her arm and pulling her close to him. His red-orange eyes were bright with rage and flickered with the threat of him bursting into flame in true fashion of his fire elemental heritage.

It frightened Lilith, actually; she couldn’t help but cringe slightly under his glare.

“I swear to fucking god,” Holt hissed at her, “If you have _anything _at all to do with this-“

“I don’t,” Lilith defended, “Holt, I swear on my grandfather’s grave, I only just know as much as you do!”

“Oh yeah, because _that’s _a guy I can really trust to hold your word to,” Holt rolled his eyes.

Clair got between them and wrestled Lilith’s arm out of his hold. The blonde stood back and winced as she rubbed her tender bicep; his grip had been strong enough to hurt.

“Dude, chill out,” Clair ordered, giving him a disapproving frown, “You’re not thinking clearly. You’re stressed out and you’re frustrated-“

“Believe me, my thoughts have never been clearer,” Holt spat as he shot Lilith another hateful look. He pointed at her again, “And all I can think about is the fact that ever since her piece of shit uncle came back into the picture, everything in this fucking town has been turned upside down!

“He gets broken out of cage, he disappears off the map, and then all of a sudden, kids start getting snatched up like birds in a falcon’s claws,” he continued, his voice dripping with resentment, “And somehow, this person ends up always making a clean getaway than not even his scent can be tracked. Meanwhile, her uncle’s a man who devoted his life to studying monsters and figuring out how to hit them right where it hurts! Now tell me, does that sound like ‘coincidence’ to you?!”

He looked so furious, so feral and bloodthirsty, it made him almost unrecognizable to all of them. His face was pinched in anger, his brows furrowed like they were trying to become one and his teeth clenched tightly like a wolf baring its fangs. His fists were balled at his sides, the veins popping like worms burrowing right under his skin.

The hate radiated off him like he had just become a fireball. They all stepped away from him, wary of his next move; none of them had ever seen Holt like this. It wasn’t a pleasant sight to behold.

“I-I don’t know where he is right now,” Lilith finally answered, “I haven’t talked to him since a few weeks ago.”

Holt narrowed his eyes at her. He said darkly, “Then find out. Believe me, you don’t want me to have to find that motherfucker myself.”

His tone sent chills down her spine. Chad approached him and grabbed his arm, trying to pacify him.

“Dude, just relax,” he said.

Holt ripped his arm away harshly, never breaking eye contact with Lilith. Clair tried to reason with him this time.

“You don’t mean that,” she said, “You’re…you’re just overwhelmed.”

“You have no fucking clue how I feel right now,” Holt snapped at her, “You all just get to sit here in your quiet little fucking Podunk town, chatting happily with your thumbs up your asses without a care in the world. Meanwhile, my friends- _my _friends, not yours!- are either dead or missing and probably will turn up dead! You’re not the one whose cousin is in the hospital because some fucking sicko made him an amputee, you’re not the ones whose parents are scared you’ll disappear if they even look away for a second, so don’t come at me with that ‘you’re only overwhelmed’ bullshit!”

Clair and Chad stared at him, their mouths open in shock. He’d never spoken to either of them like that before. Lilith stepped forward, her hands balling into fists.

“What reason would I have for hurting them, Holt?!” she questioned, “What could I possibly gain out of kidnapping someone and imprisoning them?”

“Because you’re a Van Helsing,” Holt answered venomously, “Your whole family built their name off hunting monsters, tearing apart villages and families and bringing death and destruction to keep us freaks in our place. I nearly lost my head because of you over that, remember?”

Lilith winced in shame. Even after all this time, the thought of her actions from sophomore year would forever haunt her.

Clair stepped in front of her, her expression now an angry one.

“Whatever Lilith’s uncle has done- _if _he’s even the one at fault, she has nothing to do with him,” she bit, “She’s argued in your guys’ defense countless times. If she was really working with her uncle and wanted you all dead, don’t you and Frankie and all of them would be at the top of the list?!

“So unless you have any kind of damning evidence that shows you’re not just being a total asshole right now,” she continued angrily, “Then you should leave. Go cool your fucking head already, before you and _me _end up having a problem.”

Holt didn’t respond. He continued to glare at Lilith, before he finally lifted his head and responded.

“Fine,” he spat, “But I’m watching you. And if I find out that you had any sort of help in this, I’m coming for you. Then you’ll really get a fucking taste of Mr. Hyde.”

All of them paled. They stared at him bewilderedly as Holt turned on his heel and marched back to his car. He didn’t spare any of them another glance as he slammed the door and turned the engine, peeling out of the driveway fast enough that he almost hit the mailbox before he sped away.

The three of them stood in silence, reeling over his words. Clair and Chad shared an uneasy look, before they turned to Lilith. She kept staring at the spot that the half-fire elemental had been a second ago, looking white as a wraith.

“He…he didn’t mean it,” Chad tried to reason, “W-We know him, he likes to talk big. He’s just upset. You know, people get upset, they take it out on those who don’t deserve it, they make threats. H-He was just venting that’s all…”

He trailed off, not sounding very confident in his own words. Clair sucked in a breath and crossed her arms.

“I only hope he doesn’t do something he’ll regret,” she commented, “Or put him and Jackson in danger.”

“Yes…” Lilith replied numbly. She looked in the direction where Holt had driven off to.

This confrontation was the nail in the coffin. She was going to talk to her uncle and finally get some answers once and for all. Both for her friends’ sake and her sake.

Because while the book may have milked or misinterpreted a few details, she’d learned enough about the Jekyll and Hyde family to know that when it came to getting even, Hydes always kept their words.

And she knew that with this anger, Holt wasn’t making a threat. It was a promise.

* * *

“Rise and shine, alpha-wolf. Got some big news for you.”

Romulus groaned and lifted his head from his chest, slightly dazed as he tried to blink the sleep from his eyes. His neck and backed from his stiff posture as he tried to sit up. His hand burned horrendously; his broken fingers were swelled up like sausages and discolored blue and purple. The silver nitrate had eaten through the upper layer of skin on the back of his hand, leaving it bright red and shiny with plasma and blisters. His fingers twitched uncontrollably. The pain traveled up from his hand to the entire length of his arm.

As his vision came into focus, Romulus’s bleary expression quickly melted into a hateful glare as he saw the masked man standing in front of him, though it was not as strong as it had been the first few days. As he lost his strength to pain and starvation, his energy to get worked up was also sapped.

“What…do you want?” he croaked, looking down at his feet.

The masked man glanced down at his burned hand. “Oooh, that looks bad,” he commented, “I think I can see the bone from here.”

Romulus made a noise of disgust and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look at the damage had been done; the pain alone made him nauseous enough to almost throw up. He guessed well enough that the corrosiveness of the silver and the allergic reaction he was bound to be having right now that it was bad.

Silently, the masked man walked over to him, his gaze still focused on the werewolf’s shattered hand. Slowly, he reached down and lightly pressed against a burned area with his finger.

“Hmph!” Romulus immediately sat up and screwed his eyes shut, his lips pressed into a thin line to suppress a scream. His hand began twitching more violently.

The masked man pulled away, watching his reaction. He stared at Romulus for a minute longer, before he straightened up.

“Your friends are dead.”

Romulus froze. Any pain he felt was temporarily numbed as a cold chill came over him, slowly trickling down his spine like the icy fingers of a yeti on his back. He looked up at the masked man, his face pale and his eyes wide.

“….W-W…What?” he asked. His voice was little more than a whisper.

“Dead,” the masked man repeated, “Your friends- the huge grey guy and his little fearleader. You seemed to be close, thought you deserved to know.”

Romulus gaped at him. His mouth hung open in shock, before he closed it and swallowed dryly.

“You’re…y-you’re lying,” he finally responded.

The masked man shook his head, “I’m not. Did them in the day before yesterday. They’re dead. Deceased, they’ve moved on to meet the Great wolf, or whatever you all worship.”

Romulus hung his head, still in disbelief.

_Dougey…Ascena…_he thought.

No, it couldn’t be true. It _couldn’t _be. This had to be just another of the masked man’s mind-tricks, one of the many ways he was just trying to fuck with him. It couldn’t be true. Not his packmates. Not his best friend since fifth grade.

Something heavy and ice cold settled into the pit of his stomach. His chest suddenly felt as if a pair of hands had reached in and taken a hold of his heart and just squeezed. His breathing started to grow ragged.

The masked man bent down so he was staring up at him. He took great pleasure in the wolf’s devastated expression.

“Would you like to hear how I did it?” he asked with sick pleasure, “Would you like to hear how they screamed and bled?”

He leaned in; Romulus’s reflection shone in his glass eyeholes.

“I started in on the girl first,” he started, “She was obviously not made to last- she started going in her head a lot towards the end and staring off like she was having an out-of-body experience. I stabbed her right in the neck with these needles I stole from the hospital and let her bleed out. I had her and her boyfriend turned towards each other to watch; he saw the whole thing. She was dead in seconds.

“Now your friend,” he raised a finger, “That was a fun one. Lost his fucking mind once he realized what I was doing. He was screaming and she was screaming, and then when she was finally dead he just blubbered like a baby.”

He held his hands up so the fingertips on his left hand pressed against the forehead of his mask, while his right hand was positioned where his lower lip would be.

“I was suddenly inspired by the legend of Fenrir,” he stated, “It says his jaws were so wide that they touched the heavens and the earth. So I decided to see just how wide _his _were.

“I just slid them into his mouth and started pulling and pulling…” he moved his hands in opposite directions, “It didn’t seem like it would actually happen like in the stories- especially since he kept fighting me- but all of a sudden, I got to a certain ankle and then- _schhhhhhh_, exactly like the sound of shredding paper.”

“Stop,” Romulus ordered thickly.

“After that, it was like pulling string cheese,” the masked man continued, “You get a good enough grip and angle, and the muscles and everything just give way. Oh! And it bleeds _a lot. _The poor guy practically looked like a bloody fountain.”

“_Stop.” _

The masked man stood up, but stayed bent over, his face much too close to Rom’s.

“You should’ve seen the way he screamed,” he said, “With his mouth not working, he sounded like a dying whale. I snapped his neck right afterward, so consider that a small kindness.”

Romulus didn’t respond. He lowered his head, his disheveled and overgrown hair a makeshift curtain. His mouth was set in a deep frown.

“What? No response?” the masked man inquired, standing up straight, “No razor tongue or baring of the teeth? Don’t wolves have an oath to eliminate any threat that brings harm upon their pack?”

He still received no reply from the silver wolf. Romulus kept his head low, his hair hiding his face so the masked man couldn’t see his reaction.

Then, suddenly, the masked man could see his shoulders start to tremble. Romulus remained quiet for a few minutes, before the masked man heard him let out a let out a shaky, shallow breath that sounded like he was trying to hold something in.

He could hear a small pitter-patter of something falling onto the floor. The masked man leaned slightly to the right to get a better look at the latter’s expression. Romulus was crying- tears streamed down his cheeks and mingled with the dried blood on his face, the tracks coming together and dripping off his chin.

The masked man bawled his fists at his sides. Anger overcame him at the sight; he had half a mind to punch the defeated alpha from the audacity of the action alone.

Instead, he just sighed, “How disappointing. And here I thought you were going to be different from the rest.”

Romulus kept silent. He kept his eyes closed as he wept. His throat felt too tight and painful for him to say anything anyway.

Turning away the masked man shook his head. “I expected better of you,” he commented, “I hope for your sake that you’ve straightened yourself out by the next time I see you.”

Romulus didn’t lift his head to watch him go as the latter melted into the shadows and disappeared in a cloud of black wisps. He was too preoccupied with the revelation that Dougey and Ascena- his packmates, his friends- were dead.

There was a small voice in the back of his head that tried to reason there was still the possibility the masked man was lying, but as the grief settled upon him and tightened itself around him like a noose, he knew it was wishful thinking.

They were happy together. They _deserved _to be happy- Romulus always thought they were a good couple. Ascena was one of the few people who managed to bring out Dougey’s soft side underneath that bristled, hardened exterior of his, and Dougey was the one who most often helped strengthen her self-confidence when she was feeling down on herself.

He had a brief memory of a talk he had with Dougey a few nights before him and Clawd were attacked.

“_I’m telling you, Rom, I honestly think she’s the one,” _Dougey had said, a rare warm smile on his face, “_I think after graduation, I might ask her.” _

_“You’re that sure?” _Romulus remembered asking, looking over at the broad-shouldered wolf with a surprised expression.

“_I am,” _Dougey said proudly, “_I’ve never felt this way about a ghoul like I have about Ascena. I’m telling you, man, I’m gonna marry her one day.” _

The memory struck him hard like an arrow straight through his chest.

Fresh tears flooded his eyes. The cold steel and concrete of the room echoed Romulus’s sobs as he let himself be lost to his mourning.

* * *

“Why…w-why is he doing this to us? It hu-u-urts so much, I’d rather be dead if this is what he wants…”

“Don’t talk like that, Purrsy, okay?” Meowlody said, “I know it hurts, b-but don’t give up, okay? We’re going to make it out of here.”

“You don’t know that…” Purrsephone mumbled tearfully, “Nobody can know that…”

Meowlody’s eyes filled with tears at the utter hopelessness in her sister’s voice, but tried to swallow down the lump in her throat and said softly, “J-Just listen to my voice, okay? I’m here, I’m still here.”

Purrsephone sniffled and looked up at her sister, bright gold eyes dead with defeat and glossy with tears.

“I wish I could touch you,” she sniffed, “I’m s-so scared, Meowlody…”

Meowlody’s lip quivered. She admitted, “Me, too.”

Of all the things that had been done to them ever since the masked man had taken them from their home, this separation was probably the cruelest. He had them tied up to opposite walls, leaving them just out of reach of one another by an inch. They couldn’t even comfort one another besides trying to talk to one another to keep their spirits up- a task that was quickly feeling like it was all for naught.

Meowlody looked over her sister in concern as Purrsephone hung her head and started to cry, her tangled black hair falling over her face. Her twin’s arms shook violently as she hung off the chains that pulled them taught behind her back. Large, painful burns covered the length of them, leaving bright red and raw patches that bled horribly. Her shirt was little more than ripped tatters, exposing more horrific burns and long ugly gashes that were dug deep into the surface of her belly. Her legs were a mess of bloody wounds like a wild animal had taken their claws to them- Meowlody’s legs were in similar condition.

Her condition was very poor. Though she knew she wasn’t in much better shape, Meowlody could see that her sister’s body was coping much worse with the torture than her. Beads of perspiration dotted Purrsephone’s forehead and made her bangs stick like glue; both it and her cheeks were bright red with the signs of fever. Her breathing came in shallow little pants like she couldn’t get enough oxygen, and as Meowlody observed right now, her self-awareness was starting to fizzle out. She was sick and needed help soon.

And Meowlody couldn’t even give her a hug or hold or hand. They were so close and yet so far- the sickest joke the masked man had played on them.

Was Toralei going through the same thing? Or had the masked man already done away with her and was just keeping her body stored somewhere to do whatever unspeakable things he had in mind of doing.

Meowlody broke her gaze for a second to glance around the hot, dank room they’d been placed in. She could only hear the faintest sounds coming from somewhere in the distance, and even with her hearing, they were low enough that she couldn’t gauge what they were.

For all she knew, Toralei had been in this exact same room and died in it and they would never know. There was a chance her and Purrsephone would die in this room.

“God…dammit,” Meowlody hissed weakly under her breath. She felt so weak and pathetic standing here, chained up like an abused pet and unable to do anything but stand and wait for whatever horrific treatment came next.

She looked down at the ground. On the floor nearby, just out of reach of one of her feet, a hammer lay on the ground. Meowlody bit her lip and tried to reach out to it with her tail, only to immediately recoil with a hiss as a shock of pain traveled from the appendage all the way up her back. The masked man had broken her tail in what felt like no less than three places; she couldn’t see it in her position, but it was bent jaggedly in an impossible position, now resembling a jagged Z-shape.

“Meowlody…” Purrsephone moaned again, “I-I-I don’t feel good… My head hurts so…”

The white haired werecat immediately turned her attention back to her twin as she heard her trail off. Purrsephone’s eyes fluttered feverishly, before she suddenly gagged and hung her head, a thing of vomit bursting from her lips and splattering out onto the floor. Having little in her stomach in the first place, Purrsephone’s chest rattled with painful spasms as she dry-heaved.

“Purrsephone,” Meowlody called out, her voice filled with urgency, “Purrsephone, stay with me okay? L-Listen to my voice, I’m here. I’m here, okay?”

“’M so tired,” the dark haired werecat muttered, “I just wanna sleep…”

“I know, honey, just keep listening to me. Take deep breaths,” Meowlody said in almost a pleading tone.

_Please let it jut be a side effect of anxiety, _she prayed mentally, _Please don’t let it be anything serious. _

Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Fear stewed in her stomach and built up like a volcano on the threat of erupting; Meowlody felt like she was about to lose the little food she had left.

Her sister was deteriorating right in front of her. She needed food and medicine and rest.

Was this the masked man’s plan? To force the sisters to watch each other die, just far enough that they’d never be able to share another touch? It was one of the sickest things Meowlody could think of a person ever doing.

Her ears alerted her to the sound of a strange, indescribable sound. She couldn’t put the effect into words, but she didn’t need to- she had quickly learned regardless, that it was a sound that brought only horror with it.

Her and Purrsephone both stiffened. Purrsephone lifted her head, all symptoms of illness momentarily gone as her expression twisted into one of dread and despair. Meowlody turned to look over her shoulder, eyes widened with fear.

The masked man held his arms out in a welcoming gesture as he stepped out of the shadows. “Hello, my dears,” he greeted, “Having fun?”

The twins immediately backed away. Their ears were lowered to the point they almost completely flattened against their heads. Both began to mew like a couple of newborn kittens.

“P-P-Please,” Purrsephone begged, pressing up against the wall, “Please no…”

“S-Stay away,” Meowlody ordered pitifully.

The masked man stared at them, but they could both almost feel the smile splitting across his face from behind his mask. He lifted his arm out from under his cloak and held up an object from them to see. It was a nail gun, fully loaded with two racks. The blood completely drained from both sisters’ faces.

“Guess what I found?” the masked man said cruelly, before he started towards Purrssephone.

“No, no, no, get away from me!” Purrsephone whimpered, cowering against the wall, stumbling sideways as she tried to keep out of his grip, “Get away, g-get away! GET AWAY!”

“_Leave her alone!” _Meowlody demanded, yanking against her restraints, “Don’t touch her, don’t hurt her! S-Stop! STOP!”

The masked man closed the distance between him and Purssephone and reached out, grabbing a handful of her dark hair to pull her towards him.

He was erupted with a chorus of screams from both sisters as he raised the nail gun and pressed it against her, starting the new round of torture that was bound to go on for hours.

* * *

Jackson sat at his desk, bent over his textbook as he tried to get through the section that he had to read for tomorrow’s lecture. He wasn’t having much success, though, as he was unable to actually process any of the words, his thoughts constantly wandering and making him unable to focus.

_It’s only two pages, _he told himself, _Just two pages and you’re done. _

After realizing he’d re-read the same line four times, however, Jackson sighed and closed the textbook and pushed it away from him. He leaned back in his computer chair and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. There was just too much weighing on him right now for him to focus on such a small task.

It was an understatement to say that the half-human boy was not having the best of days. In between Heath being discharged from the hospital this morning and the revelation about Gil being identified as one of the bodies found, his emotional health was a jumbled mess of knots that just kept getting more and more tangled with each piece of news.

He’d been there with his parents at his aunt and uncle’s house when they brought Heath home. Jackson had gone at his father’s insistence that they be there to give his cousin emotional support, but part of him thought that Heath would want to be alone the minute he stepped foot into the house.

Another part of him also didn’t want to go so he wouldn’t have to face the pained, fragile look in his cousin’s eyes that made him almost unrecognizable. Heath was in obvious pain, mentally and physically, and Jackson couldn’t do anything to soothe it. It made him feel horribly useless.

And then there was the issue of Gil. _Oh, Gil. _

Jackson frowned deeply and swallowed against the lump in his throat as he felt a tightening sensation in his chest. Gil, one of his dear friends, now dead. Jackson had no idea how to deal with the news.

His parents immediately tried to be of some help, his mom giving him several pamphlets about grief and list of phone numbers for therapists and the national hotline for mental illness, while his dad had pulled him aside and told him he’d be there if he needed anything. Jackson appreciated the gestures, but at the moment, he didn’t want to do anything.

He didn’t want to _feel _anything. He didn’t want to think about the fact that Gil was dead. He didn’t want to think about the fact there was a chance that Clawd and the others would turn up dead in time.

Holt obviously wasn’t taking it well, based on the fact it had all been radio silence from his end for the past few weeks. He didn’t answer any of Jackson’s messages or leave a note. Not even Jackson’s attempt at reaching out to him via having their phone buzz every five minutes whenever one or the other was taking over with the notification that they needed to talk did anything.

He would’ve been more relieved waking up in the middle of an abandoned house stripped down to his underwear and covered in glitter. At least something like _that _told him that Holt was just being Holt.

He wasn’t familiar with _this _side of his twin. 

His phone rang. Jackson glanced over at it. It was Frankie.

“Hello?” he answered.

“_Do you remember where you were this morning?” _his ghoulfriend asked, not taking a moment for greeting.

Jackson paused, surprised at the question. He furrowed his brows.

“Um, I was here?” he said, confused at the question.

Frankie continued, “_Do you remember having a black out at all? From maybe the time you woke up to a few hours ago? Do you even remember waking up?” _

“_Why_, Frankie?” Jackson questioned, “What’s wrong?”

The heavy sigh Frankie gave out from her end of the line let him know right away that something bad had happened. And based on the questions, that bad thing had to do with his loving “brother.”

“_Clair called me,” _Frankie explained, “_She said Holt went over to Lilith’s house and threatened her. He definitely thinks her and her uncle are the ones behind the murders at this point.” _

Jackson’s back went rigid. He stared at the wall in momentary shock. Now that he thought about it, he _had _woken up to find his shoes and pants scattered on the floor like he’d been out previously, although he had been in his bed like he remembered being last night.

“What?” he questioned. He thought back to what Heath and Frankie had previously told him about Holt’s suspicions and the way he had acted around the sheriff. A sudden cold chill went through him.

“I-Is she okay?” he asked, slightly panicked, “Do I need to go down there?”

_“No, no, he didn’t actually do anything!” _Frankie reassured him, “_But…Clair said he was pretty pissed. She said he pretty much threatened to bring the wrath of your guys’ great-grandfather down upon Lilith if he found any sort of thing that seemed to implicate her in the case.” _

“Fuck…” Jackson muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Goddammit, Holt…”

_Well, this is just fucking great, _he thought bitterly. As if dealing with his missing friends and Heath’s injury wasn’t already driving his blood pressure up the wall. Now his body-roommate was now making death threats towards his friends. Jackson could practically feel an aneurysm building up in his head.

He was also worried. If not a little bit paranoid.

Though they’d managed to get their shifting more under control with time, there were still moments where Holt managed to come out involuntarily. And Edward Hyde had had a habit of coming out whenever Jekyll was feeling the most bloodthirsty…

“_Jackson?” _Frankie stated, noting his silence.

The bespectacled brunette shook his head. “I’m still here, sorry about that.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe it’s gotten to this point. I mean, from what you and Heath said, I know he was still really sore over last Halloween, but if he’s really convinced that someone in the human’s town is guilty…”

A shiver ran through him. His grip on his phone tightened as a sudden wave of memories ran through his mind. Scraps from old newspapers his mother had in her journal, old yellowed pages that you just barely make out the various chemical formulas written on them- snippets of his family’s dark history.

_Scientist found dead of suicide…Parliament member found bludgeoned to death…“Here then, as I lay down the pen and proceed to seal up my confession, I bring the life of that unhappy Henry Jekyll to an end…” _

“_Jackson, baby?” _Frankie repeated, now sounding slightly panicked, “_Are you there? Talk to me.” _

Jackson’s eyes roamed to his nightstand. His eyes lingered on the picture frame there that displayed four small photos- one of him and Frankie, one of Frankie and Holt, one of their parents, and the last one of him, Deuce, and Clawd at a casketball game. His jaw clenched.

“Frankie, listen to me,” he said with a sudden edge, “From now on, if you ever think that Holt may be up to something- if you have even the _slightest _feeling that him, or even _me _for that matter, is going to do something dangerous, I want you to call the police right away. Okay?”

“_Wait, w-w-what??” _Frankie stammered out.

“Promise me,” Jackson repeated, “No matter how unreasonable you think you’re being, no matter how slight of a feeling it may be, promise me that if you think either of us is going to hurt someone, you call whoever you can to put a stop to it.”

On the line, he could hear Frankie stutter as she struggled to come up with a response.

“_Jackson…y-you don’t know if he actually will do something,” _she tried to reason, “_This is Holt we’re talking about! S-Sure, he gets a little too worked up and he’s pointing the finger a lot more than others, but you don’t honestly think that-?”_

“That what, Frankie?” Jackson questioned angrily, “That he won’t do what he says he’s going to do? That he’s not capable of truly hurting someone if he felt strongly enough about it? Are you forgetting who my ancestor is and the whole reason I have a double personality in the first place?!”

She was silent for a few seconds, before she spoke up again.

“_…You’re not your grandfather,” _Frankie commented quietly.

Jackson closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The sentiment was appreciated, but right now, he had to be realistic.

“I try not to be,” he said, “But it never hurts to be careful. So I’m asking you: please, if me or Holt ever seems like we’re up to something, just…I’m trusting you to do what you always do and put a stop to it. Before anyone else gets hurt. Please, Frankie. For me-"

He was suddenly cut off at the sound of a car passing by from outside his open window. It had its music turned up so loud that Jackson could feel the thump of the bass through the floor as it echoed through the entire neighborhood.

Right on cue, he felt a familiar migraine coming on; spots of color flashed in front of his eyes, signaling the onset of a transformation.

“Fuck,” Jackson muttered, his eyes screwing shut at the slight pain as he put a hand to his forehead.

“_Jackson? What’s wrong?” _Frankie asked.

“About to black out,” was all she got as a response, “Try to talk to him, Frankie. I don’t know if-“

He didn’t get to finish before he doubled over with a cry of pain. His head felt like it had suddenly been smashed open. It was the feeling that always came whenever he had a blackout, but even after all these years, his and Holt’s discomfort never lessened.

From across the room, sitting idly by on a branch in his cage, Crossfade watched as a bright ball of light consumed Jackson, before Holt stood up a second later. He looked around, confused, before he noted the phone in his hand.

“_Jackson? Jackson!” _Frankie called out.

“Hello? Frankenfine?” Holt answered, “What’s wrong?”

He smirked, “I didn’t interrupt anything private between you and the beanpole, did I?”

It was a playful comment, as was characteristic of the blue-skinned teen. Instead of his ghoulfriend’s usual bubbly tone, however, Frankie’s response to him was as icy as a yeti in the dead of winter.

“_Actually, we were having a very important conversation,” _Frankie replied angrily, “_About you, actually, and how you’ve decided to go around threatening everyone who you’ve had the slightest sense of beef with in New Salem.” _

Holt paused, surprised at the statement. He quickly recovered, though, and rolled his eyes in annoyance; he knew right away what she was talking about.

“It’s not everyone in New Salem,” he countered, “Besides, she fucking deserves it. It’s about time someone remind her she’s not invincible.”

“_What has gotten into you?” _Frankie questioned, “_Lilith’s our friend, Holt. She’s proven time and time again that she doesn’t condone or believe in her family’s ideology anymore. Jackson trusts her, I trust her, and I **know **for a factor you did to until this all blew up. Where has this sudden hatred come from?” _

Holt snapped, “I’m being realistic. I’m tired of everyone here dancing around and ignoring the obvious because you and them all insist of keeping up this candy-ass charade of being all hunky-dory like everything hasn’t gone to hell in a hand basket.

“There’s too many loose ends with her, Frankie,” he argued, “Either she’s helping him or she’s hiding him. Either way, she’s involved in them and Van Hellscream’s probably having a major fucking laugh about it right now as everyone goes in circles like a bunch of sheep being led to the slaughter.”

_“Holt, listen to yourself!” _Frankie exclaimed, “_You sound-“ _

“What, crazy?” Holt asked coldly, “Yeah, it kinda runs in my family, remember?”

“_Don’t say that,” _Frankie snapped, “_I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into you, if this is just you projecting your frustrations over what happened onto Lilith or what, but you need to stop, Holt! Before you and Jackson hurt yourselves!” _

Holt replied bitterly, “If nobody’s going to have the fucking balls to finally put an end to this madness, I will. I’m tired of waiting around like a scared fucking rabbit while the people I care about get hunted down like fucking wild game.”

“_Holt…” _Frankie repeated, sounding like she was in disbelief. She paused; when she spoke again, her voice was a lot firmer.

“_Whatever you’re thinking of doing, it’s not going to work,” _she said, “_I won’t let you go out and do hex knows what and get yourself hurt or arrested or, God forbid, hurt over baseless accusations. Please, Holt, just…just think about what you’re saying.” _

Holt’s eyes softened. He smiled bitterly. His next words were laced with a twinge of sadness, but what they were chilled her to the very bone.

“Oh, Frankie, my love,” he said, “You and me both know if I really wanted to, nobody could stop me." 


	15. Chapter 14: A Striking Clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The ending to the previous chapter has since been edited to include an argument between Frankie and Holt. I was, admittedly, in a bit of a rush to get the chapter out and I ended up not liking how I ended things, so I went back and changed to something I was more satisfied with.

Grindylow sat at his desk, looking back through his notes. He double-checked to make sure that he had everything he needed, quickly scanning the tops of the papers as he flipped through them. His pager beeped and he glanced at the name across the screen before stuffing it back in his pocket and standing up from his seat.

Turning his own seat, Firth gave him a look. “Are you sure about this?” he asked doubtfully.

“Our leads have run completely dry,” Grindylow defended as they headed for the front of headquarters, “If there is a chance that someone in their part of town could be responsible, they should be able to recognize at least some pattern of behavior.”

“Oh, yeah,” Firth responded sarcastically, “Because we can really trust the _humans _to give us the truth on if it’s one of their own.”

“Didn’t you used to be human?” Grindylow asked in amusement, eyeing the cyborg up and down as they approached the doors, “Being a little bit against your kind, aren’t you?”

“Keyword ‘used’,” Firth said, “After my cybernetics were implanted, my family acted like I might as well have been an imposter who killed their son. You’d be surprised at how quickly someone’s perception of you can change when you’re not one of the organics anymore.”

Grindylow gave him a look out of the corner of his eye but chose not to pursue the personal matter. They had other things to worry about right now.

He turned his attention back to the front entrance and perked up at the sight of the person they were going to meet.

“Sheriff,” he greeted, “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. I’m sorry it couldn’t have been under more optimistic circumstances, but at this point, we need all the help we can get.”

At the mention of his title, New Salem’s sheriff glanced up at him and Firth. He shook Grindylow’s hand somewhat sheepishly and said, “Um, no problem. You know, uh, we’re always, um…willing to help.”

He seemed a bit uncomfortable; if he didn’t know better, Grindylow thought he looked almost flustered, like he wasn’t quite sure he belonged here. The sheriff’s dark blue eyes kept glancing over at the police officers and Grindylow’s other coworkers like he was flabbergasted at them- though Grindylow couldn’t tell if that was because he was seeing new cryptids that he hadn’t previously known about or if the brunette was caught off guard by the sight of monsters wearing uniforms and interacting like his regular humans probably did.

Probably both, actually; from what Grindylow understood, the sheriff didn’t exactly have much love for monsters or their ways and was a bit…_conservative, _in his beliefs about how they should live compared to humans. That was fine, though; after the whole scandal from last Halloween between their rival high schools, Grindylow couldn’t say he had much love for the human police force, either.

Now wasn’t the time to gripe about old grudges, though. As much as Firth and the others didn’t like the sheriff or his colleagues, they needed help.

“Good,” he finally replied as he stepped back, “If you follow me and my partner, we can explain all of our findings so far.”

Him and Firth led the sheriff down the hall to the morgue. Ossium was there, writing on a chart as he stood over one of the bodies that had recently been found; the identity of who exactly it was had been covered up by a white sheet.

He paused as he heard the door swing open and turned to look at the three men coming in. His brow ridges knitted together while his dark green eyes obtained a skeptical look in them as he caught sight of the sheriff.

“And just how can I help you gentlemen?” he asked, eyeing the sheriff.

“Ossium, meet Sheriff Howard Benton,” Grindylow explained, gesturing to the sheriff, “He’s head of the human division of New Salem. We were hoping if we could take a look at the bodies so he could get a sense of the killer’s MO and maybe that gives a better indication on what records to look through.”

Ossium frowned. “I wouldn’t exactly say there’s much of an MO, other than our guy surely likes to cause as much pain and suffering in their final moments as he can.”

At that, the sheriff paled. He coughed into his fist to try and dispel his shock, before he spoke up.

“Um, yeah, well, it wouldn’t hurt to take a look and see, would it?” he said gruffly, “My department has seen quite a few cases that have stood out over the years. Any similarities would definitely stick out in the files.”

The skeleton coroner didn’t look impressed but kept whatever thoughts he had to himself as he put aside his pen and chart and gestured to the body.

“Well, as Grindylow has probably already informed you, three bodies later identified to be three of our missing teens came in four days ago,” Ossium explained, “We performed a toxicology test and just got done with the autopsy the day before yesterday…”

He pulled back the sheet, revealing the body to be Gil Webber’s- the sheriff had a flicker of horror as he realized he recognized the river monster- so he could show his findings as he narrated what he and his assistant had found as they examined each of the three teenagers.

Ossium talked them through the exam as he pointed to various wounds on Gil’s body and discussed his findings on what was the cause of death and the state of the body upon its discovery. He did the same thing as he guided the detectives the sheriff to Ascena’s body, then to Dougey’s.

“-The killer then performed some sort of jerking motion that had enough strength to completely yank the mandible free from the temporomandibular joint,” he narrated as he pointed with his pinkie finger to the gruesome mouth wounds marring Dougey’s jaw, “At the rate he was pulling, he managed to tear the buccinator and orbicularis oris muscles and the buccal artery. He would have about three or four minutes max before he bled out.

“That wasn’t what killed him, though,” he added as he turned back to face Grindylow, “The killer snapped his neck immediately afterward.”

He crossed his arms expectantly. Grindylow turned to the sheriff. He asked, “What do you think?”

The sheriff looked like he was stuck between wanting to throw up and needing to take a long swig of whiskey. He was slightly pale as his eyes stayed glued to Dougey’s mouth. In the back of his mind, Grindylow couldn’t help but scoff. _A sheriff who can’t stomach a crime scene? _he thought, _Damn, they’ll hire anyone these days. _

“Sheriff Benton?” he instead repeated as the brunette failed to respond.

The sheriff shook his head and glanced at him. “Huh? O-Oh, yeah, sorry. Um, yeah, it’s definitely…definitely quite a horror story you got here.

“Well, I can’t exactly say any of these…traits ring a bell,” he confessed, “They’re certainly...unusual kinds of injuries. That I’ve seen at least. I don’t know if it’s different for you monsters...”

“Sheriff, it’s come to our attention that one of the residents in your county is a retired monster hunter,” Firth said, “Do you have any knowledge of if these causes of death match any ancient methods that people of his profession have performed in the past at all? Or if anything echoes anything from possible anti-monster propaganda?”

The sheriff straightened up at that. His gaze became stern as he looked in Firth’s direction.

“You’re talking about Van Hellscream,” he stated.

Firth nodded, “As you know, he was involved in an incident with the staff and student body of Monster High last fall. Many of these parents still understandably hold grudges and numerous times have voiced their suspicions he’s the culprit.”

“Yeah, I know,” the sheriff said, “We looked in his direction, too, once we learned of how the perp was going about the kidnappings. With his...release, from the curse he was under occurring around the same time as the first kids went missing, we didn’t think it could be too much of a coincidence.”

He crossed his arms, “But, I’m afraid that he’s not your guy. Not only does he not have any of that fancy magic equipment he used to impersonate Monster High’s principal and whatnot, but we checked his location whenever a new kid disappeared. He’s got a solid alibi for every single date.”

Grindylow suggested, “You don’t think he could be using someone else’s? Maybe someone in the same field as him that he still has connections to.”

The sheriff shook his head, “We checked and double checked all his contacts. As of the last two months, the only people he’s been in contact with have been his immediate family and his employer. Not to mention, he’s court-ordered to have weekly inspections by a monster social worker who can detect if he’s handled or is in possession of any charms. He’s been spotless every single time.”

“Only since the last two months?” Ossium questioned, “What about recently?”

At that, the sheriff blushed. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, as if he’d just been caught in something.

“Well, we...kind of fell behind,” he admitted.

The three of them balked at him in shock. He held up his hands defensively.

“Not on purpose!” he exclaimed, “It’s just we always see a pattern of petty crime go up around this time of year; you’d be surprised just how many calls we get in just a day come winter. If we get sidetracked with other things that aren’t an immediate concern, it’s very easy for the department to get overwhelmed.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’ve got five dead teenagers in my fucking morgue,” Ossium snapped, “But please, go on telling me how you not doing your job to monitor a possible repeat predator can help you get ‘overwhelmed.’”

The sheriff stepped back, obviously taken off guard by the outburst. His face burned bright red in shame.

Grindylow got between them, sending a look for Ossium to cool it.

“We didn’t bring you here to badger you, sheriff,” he said, “If we didn’t trust you to help us, we wouldn’t have come to you in the first place.”

“Y-Y-Yes, of course,” the sheriff replied, flustered, “A-Anyway, like I said, we interrogated Van Hellscream about where he was the night of the murders and the disappearances. He gave us evidence, too, and we checked in with witnesses who could back up his claims. There’s nothing connecting him to any of the kids.”

He looked at Grindylow, “I could bring you his records, if you like, to look over yourselves. Maybe you can find something in there that we might’ve initially missed.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Grindylow said, “I’ll ask our secretary to get in contact with your department. They can e-mail us the documents.”

The sheriff nodded and him, Grindylow, and Firth started for the door. Ossium stood by the autopsy tables, watching their backs as they walked out.

As the door swung shut behind them, he shook his head and turned back to Dougey’s body, grabbing the sheet to throw back over him.

“And this guy somehow got promoted to sheriff,” he muttered as he covered up the body, “And they wonder why people don’t like cops.”

He continued to shake his head as he picked up his clipboard and resumed his work.

* * *

Jane waited outside the police headquarters, tapping her foot impatiently waited for her stepfather to be done. She really didn’t want to be here; with everything going on, her anxiety had skyrocketed to almost concerning levels, and being left alone while Dr. Moreau tended to his business with the detective made her uneasy to the point of near nausea.

She looked around the parking lot, watching as various officers in uniform entered and exited headquarters. Even with it being daytime and her sitting right outside the entrance, where the women at the front desk could always see her, she couldn’t shake the feeling of remaining exposed to a certain degree.

The person responsible for the kidnappings was definitely doing a good job of shaking everyone’s sense of safety. Her stepfather and dad had talked about it when they thought she was sleeping, but she had stayed up to listen, out of sight. Not even the police station was safe from the kidnapper leaving his mark.

There was a soft touch on her forearm. Jane glanced down to see Needles looking up at her, concern in his soft black eyes.

“_Are you okay?” _he asked in sloth, “_You’re really tense.” _

Jane smiled and stroked his fur, nodding in response. “Yeah, I’m just…I just hate everything going on right now.”

Officers who passed by them cast her strange looks at what seemed to be her making random animal noises, but Jane paid them no notice. Needles nodded in understanding and padded her forearm with one of his long, clawed hands.

“_I know I can’t really say anything that you haven’t heard before that will really make you feel better,” _he squeaked, “_But just remember I’m here for you.”_

“Thank you, Needles,” Jane said, honestly touched.

Her smile quickly faded, however, as she looked back out onto the parking lot, before she turned her gaze to the nearby patch of forest nearby.

“I’ll be able to breath again once this is finally all over,” she said, “_If _this is ever ends.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the purple-skinned ghoul just staring melancholy out at nothing in particular as Needles sat in her lap.

She turned her head as a few ravens descended down from one of the trees nearby onto the sidewalk to pick at a few crumbs that had fallen out around near the trashcan. She could understand their squawks as bounced around.

“_...And did you see the beak on him?” _one of the ravens asked, “_The thing looked like it could poke out the eye of a moose!” _

“_What about __how huge he was, even from above?” _another responded, “_I thought he was a bear at first until I saw the beak. He looked like he was some weird mutant! Not to mention that weird sheet wrapped around him.” _

A third raven spoke up, “_Did you notice he didn’t seem to have a smell either? It was like he was just a plastic bag or something the the bipeds leave on the side of the road.” _

Jane perked up, staring in the direction of the birds. Her eyes went wide at their words. Beak? Sheet? Could it be…?

Getting up, Needles pressed against her chest like a stuffed animal, Jane slowly approached the ravens.

“Um, excuse me,” she began, “Did I hear you say something about something having no smell?”

The ravens paused in their feeding and glanced up at her, surprised to hear an obvious biped- and especially one that wasn’t even avian in appearance- talk to them in their language. One of the ravens shook his head and dispelled his surprised before he turned back to Jane.

“_What was that?” _he asked.

“Pardon me, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Jane apologized, “But I couldn’t help but overhear you three talking about something you seem to have seen while you were flying. Something about a man with a beak or wearing something strange?”

The raven nodded his head jerkily. He gestured with his wing to the woods.

“_It was just something really weird me and my buddies saw looking for some scraps,” _he explained, “_See, last night, we was just flying out from Portland- tons of great food bipeds drop on the ground there, ya know?- and we decided to take a rest.” _

“_All of a sudden, we saw this big giant thing dart out from the over the river!” _the second raven exclaimed. He spread his wings out, “_I mean it was huge, it looked like a bear running with the speed of a hungry coyote! I ain’t see nothin’ like it since those sasquatches that reside up in Washington!” _

Jane nodded, listening intently. She bent down so that she was leaning forward slightly, her weight balancing mostly on the balls of her feet. Needles climbed over her shoulder so he could hang over her back like a knapsack, his long arms grasping his feet.

“_Anyway, obviously we were curious- ain’t never seen an animal run on two feet that quickly before,” _the second raven continued, “_So me and the fellas decided to track it for a few yards, see exactly what it was.” _

He looked down at the ground and shook his head, as if he were still in slight disbelief. “_After a few feet, I finally got a good look at its face. And lemme tell you: It definitely wasn’t no bear or sasquatch.” _

“_It had a beak, like us,” _the first raven resumed, “_Only...it looked off, somehow. It was long and white, but it didn’t seem to move at all. It almost looked fake, like a...a...” _

“Like a mask?” Jane suggested.

The raven nodded, “_Yeah, that’s whatcha call it! A mask! He was wearing a _ _mask. And a hat, too- I think that’s the word?- yeah, a hat. It was really weird- you ever see a bird with a black body and just a completely white face? Looked like one of those giant flightless ones they have up in the arctic- those Empress penguins, or whatever you call them.” _

The third raven butted in, “_We thought it was flying at first- which would be weird enough, having a bird fly so low to the ground and being so big- but it didn’t take long for us to notice he never flapped his wings, and they rippled out from behind him like _ _they weren’t attached to any bones_ _. _

“_That’s when we realized it was a sheet he was wearing, or whatever thing you bipeds wear that’s long and billow__y,” _he added.

Jane nodded; she kept her face neutral but she could feel her skin crawl at the birds’ description.

The masked man had been out again. What was he doing last night? Scoping out for another victim, or just making his way to wherever he kept his current ones in order to do unspeakable things to them? Jane had to quickly stop herself from divulging in that thought, already feeling the threat of nausea in the back of her throat.

“_He was wearing something around his neck, too,” _the first raven said, “_Something bright blue, like the color of the sky when the su__n's out. Like a necklace or something." _

That caught the cryptid girl's attention. Jane furrowed her brows. "A necklace?"

"_Yeah," _ the raven affirmed, " _And it glowed, like, really weirdly. It could've been a rope, though, or something else. He was moving too fast for me to get a good look."_

He took the end of his wing and rubbed the bottom of his beak. "_Of all that, that wasn't even the strangest thing, though. You know what really _ _was the most confusing part?"_

From what she had overheard earlier, Jane already knew, but let him say it anyway.

"_He didn't even have a smell to him. Like, not even a trace. It was like he was _ _made up of...I don't know, light, or something that doesn't actually have a smell. I mean, I know us _ _ravens_ _ aren't exactly wolves, but you'd think something THAT huge would leave a little trace of odor or even a _ _whiff..." _

He trailed off, still puzzled over the concept. Jane, however, furrowed her brows as she thought of something.

She'd overheard such a detail from her stepfather, ever since he agreed to help the police force investigate the kidnappings- the lack of a traceable smell was one of the most astonishing things they'd come across. Normally, it wouldn't be as strange if they were investigating something otherwordly, like a ghost or a poltergeist, but from what she'd heard from Dr. Moreau, the killer had demonstrated a wide variety of abilities that were way beyond that of a single species. It was the reason he'd been asked to help the cops in the first place.

A sudden thought came to her. _A bright blue necklace that glows,_ she thought, _Where have heard of something like that before?_

_Bright blue necklace...no scent like a ghost...Bright blue..._

She suddenly got a flashback to the incident earlier this year, when the headmaster of the spirit world's Haunted High came to Monster High and used boogie sand on the students to in order to imprison them in the chains that had kept her grounded to her former home due to her misdeeds as the infamous Red Lady.

When the students had been hit with the sand, Jane remembered, and been turned into ghosts, they had all also had been marked with a strange charm; Twyla had said that it would serve as a way for boogeymen to communicate in the Old World, to allow one another to know that the form they'd see each other in was not their own in case one or the other was injured or needed help.

The charms had been in the shape of hourglasses. Hourglasses that were bright blue...

Something clicked right then. Jane's eyes widened with startling realization.

The ravens cawed as she suddenly stood up with no warning; they all looked up at with slight consternation.

"_Geez, what's the big deal?!" _the first raven asked, "_You look like ya just saw the big ol' buzzard making his rounds around the tops of the oaks." _

"That's it!" Jane exclaimed to no one in particular, "That's how he manages to get around so swiftly!"

"_Who?" _the third raven asked in confusion.

Jane looked down upon them again. She bent over and regarded the three of them with a hopeful look in her eye. Over her shoulder, Needles looked over at her with perplexity, not understanding the sudden change in her demeanor.

"Could I ask you three for a favor?" she asked, her vibrant blue eyes serious as she made eye contact with all of them, "Over these next few nights, if you happen to catch sight of that strange beaked man again in the woods, could you follow him? See where he's going, and then come find me and tell me? I know it's out of the blue, but it's urgent I learn as soon as possible."

The ravens gaped at her, surprised at the question. The second raven then slowly answered, "_Um...sure. We've been planning to stick around these parts for a few months. But why? _

_"Cuz to be honest, he doesn't seem like the kind of biped that ya really want to find yaself messin' with," _he commented.

"Trust me, I don't," Jane thought, unconsciously shivering at the thought of coming face to face with the living nightmare that had taken her town as its prisoner, "But he knows some information that is very important for the people I love and care about, so it's imperative I find out where he's been and what he's been up to all this time.

"Do you think you could do that for me?" she asked, putting her hands together in a pleading gesture, "My name's Jane. Here..."

She reached up and pulled back her leopard print headband to get access to her hairline. She winced slightly as she grabbed onto a single strand of hair and tugged on it to pull it free of her scalp, which she handed to the ravens.

"So you can find me once you see him," she said, "He probably won't notice you if you're up high above, but I would say to try and still stay out of sight. If you notice any strange buildings or vehicles he gets into while you're tracking him, make sure to tell me."

The first raven that had spoken leaned down and took her offering into his beak. He gave Jane a curt nod.

"_I don't know what the big deal is that you__r feathers have gotten all ruffled over this fellow," _he said, "_But me and the fellow here will do our best to get you some answers." _

Jane smiled, "Thank you. Thank you three so much."

"_No problem," _the raven said, before him and the two other two spread their wings out and took off flying towards the trees across the street.

Jane and Needles watched them, the former already anxiously awaiting for if and when they met up again.

_Please, let this work, _she begged in her mind.

Turning on her heel, she marched forward and headed back into the police station to talk with her stepfather.

She needed to talk to Twyla, and fast.

* * *

"Your dear fake mother isn't taking the news of my recent gift well. I passed her the other day at the store; she's clearly devastated by the news of your friends," the masked man said.

When he received no reply, he paused in his current task and looked up.

"What, no response?" he asked, "No comment on your guardian's well being, or even a thinly veiled threat?"

Abbey stayed silent. She just glared at him, her head slightly lowered at an angle that made her eyes appear several shades darker than their true color. The upper corner of her lip twitched like she was withholding a snarl from him.

Even with her stripped down to just her underwear and half her face and hair covered in blood from the gnarly slash that ran down the edge of her face, she still managed to carry an air of aggression and absolute ferity about her that made her seem about ready to break the her restraints and charge at him to either send an icepick through his right eye or covered his face in ice and then smash it against the floor.

She didn't even show any signs of pain from the dozens of cuts, burns, and stab wounds that covered her arms, back, and abdomen. If he was anyone else, he could admit he would've been cautious approaching her.

That wasn't the case, though. Now, she could bare those grotesque tusks of hers at him all she wanted, it wouldn't change the fact that she was still stuck on the crank table that he'd stolen from a flea market, her wrists and ankles shackled together and pulled taut so that she was straightened out, with her arms restrained above her head.

The masked man glanced at the healing wound on her right cheek. Four thick claw marks, crusty with scabs, ran horizontally from just under her ear all the way to the edge of her nostril and mouth. The first injury he inflicted on her when he had strapped her up and she was taking forever to come down from the drug he'd administered.

It was a low blow, admittedly, but he couldn't deny that she'd been pretty tough the night he took her from her bedroom, and the fact that she had actually managed to hurt him and damage his mask had bruised his pride.

Shrugging, the masked man went back to what he was previously occupied with. He unscrewed the cap from the new bottle of fuel he had bought for his blowtorch, before he replaced it with the nozzle and twisted it on.

He held it up to Abbey and watched her reaction as he turned it on and pressed the lighter, igniting a steady flame. Abbey just glowered at him, not even flinching.

The masked man held up the blade of his knife to the flame, heating the tip.

"I wonder what she must be thinking now," he continued with where he left off, "To know that everything's steadily falling through her hands. The monsters blame the humans, the humans blame the monsters. To think two hundred years of hard work would become undone all because of one single man."

"_Dgo ysuol iths eceip fo ouy, rehtom ruoy ckuf gO!" _Abbey spat at him in Yettish.

"Yes, yes, you hate me," the masked man replied, "You and everyone else here."

He turned the torch off and set it on a small desk nearby. The edge of the knife was glowing dull red with heat, like there was a blazing fire trapped within its metal.

He brought it over to Abbey. There was a flash of horror in her eyes at the sight of the blade, but it was quickly smothered as she gave him a defiant look. Even with this, though, she still turned her head away as he lowered it and she felt the waves of heat radiating off it. The masked man could see goosebumps break out as her temperature-sensitive skin became aware to the all-too hot object nearby.

A harsh scream tore from her throat as the masked man pressed the knife flatly against the lower left side of her stomach. Her fists and heels slammed back against the steel of the table underneath her. A bright red blister, edged with blackened skin, was left in its wake as the masked man took the knife away.

"Was that too hot for you?" the masked man questioned, "Are you going to melt? Maybe you should cool down a little."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out her ice crystal, holding it by the chain so he could dangle it above her in a gesture of mockery.

"Perhaps _this _could help," he teased, raising the crystal up and down like a pet owner playing with their cat, "Your own little icebox to carry around with you."

Abbey grit her teeth, fighting against the spikes of pain in her brain that suddenly appeared. She'd never gone this long without her ice crystal before in a warm environment; now, she could feel the full force of temperature sickness and yeti-specific hyperthermia on her. As she flexed her hands back and forth from the pain, her body was shaking and erupting in gooseflesh and her stomach and head both felt like they were about to explode.

Bracing against the skull-splitting migraine, she grit her teeth and opened her eyes to regard the masked man with a hateful glare.

"Y-You are sick man," she hissed, "Will not get away with this. Even most experienced hunter slips up in his arrogance at least once; you will get found out, and I will rue day I can tear you apart!"

The masked man actually chuckled at this. It was a deep, grating sound.

"Oh, will you now?" he asked in amusement, "I look forward to it. I'm sure you're aching to do unto me what I've already taken from your little boyfriend."

At that, he kicked at something on the floor with his toe. A flash of yellow was enough to tell Abbey what it was; her anger faltered as she felt herself get slightly queasy.

She had done her best at trying to defy him as he hurt her, refusing to let him see her cry and spitting various curses at him in place of begging him to stop like an abused animal. Nothing could have prepared her, though, for the night he had come back to her and waved Heath's severed arm at her like he was a fisherman who'd just caught a prize catfish.

The sight had caused Abbey to vomit and had been a steel bullet in the heavy walls of her emotional defenses, and as the days dragged on and the smell of its decay grew stronger, try as she might, she could feel herself starting to lose it.

"You do look like you could use some cooling off, though," the masked man commented, "Here, let me help you."

He bent down and picked something off the ground. He came back to his full height, and Abbey jerked with a sudden scream of surprise as something cold and wet was dumped on her.

She shut her eyes against the water falling into them and coughed as she accidentally swallowed a few mouthfuls. The masked man dropped the bucket onto the floor, watching with interest as he noticed some of the droplets change phase as they made contact with the yeti's skin. They slowed and solidified into soggy ice pellets, like sleet.

"There," he said, "Doesn't that feel better?"

Abbey didn't respond, still reeling from the shock of the water. In any other circumstance, its ice cold feeling would've been a great relief to her sweltering body; with all her injuries, however, the shock of the temperature made her muscles contract and made the cuts and fresh burn on her stomach to sting like someone had rubbed salt into them.

Panting, Abbey turned her head sharply to him and spat a mouthful of water at him. It him in the chest, soaking the front of his black outfit.

The masked man didn't show any sign of taking offense to this. He just grabbed a towel and dabbed at the damp spot, before he grabbed a box nearby and rifled through it.

"I found this the other day while looking for inspiration," he explained, "It made me think of you and that green girl I always saw you hang out with- the one made of corpses with the striped hair. Speaking of which- she's cute. Not a bad body for a girl made of dead people."

Abbey's claws pierced the palms of her hands as she balled them into fists. To hear him talk about Frankie, and especially in such a sick way, was like nails on a chalkboard to her ears.

"She has to have a constant supply of electricity, doesn't she?" the masked man asked, "To be a living conductor- I imagine that sometimes she gets a little too electrified, doesn't she? Where she sometimes can't control herself and accidentally gives a little _shock..."_

He held up a pair of baton-shaped cattle prods in his hands. He pressed the buttons to power them on and tapped their pronged tips together. A blue spark of electricity lit up between them. A dull crackling sound filled the room.

The masked man said lowly, "And since you're one of the ones closest to her, you should get to know your own limits of how much of that you can handle."

Abbey's eyes darted back and forth between him and the cattle prods, before she turned to stare at him; her breathing became shallow as she obviously tried not to panic.

From behind his mask, the masked man smiled.

He kept eye contact with her as he bent over so he was almost hovering over her, before he turned his eyes towards her chest area. The skin there was still heavily damp from the water he had dumped on her.

Abbey's screams filled the room as he lunged down and jabbed the ends of each cattle prod right against her collarbones.

* * *

_Shit, what am I even doing here? _Deuce thought as he stared at the house to the right of him. He'd parked on the side of the street, perfectly in line with the walkway that came from the middle of the porch and descended down into the sidewalk.

It seemed like a perfectly rational answer this morning; after all, what kind of monster would he be if he didn't visit his best friend after the latter just got out of the hospital and would obviously be in need of performing daily tasks? As he drove over here, though, Deuce became more unsure if a visit would really do any good.

He wasn't even sure if Heath would want any company. What was he supposed to do anyway? _Hey, buddy, I know your ghoulfriend disappeared without a trace and might be dead by this point and you just got your arm chopped off by the guy who did it, but I got you some Mountain Boo Cherry and sour gummy fears to cheer you up. _As if.

It all felt like one bad dream they were all in that nobody could wake up from. Everything was chaos and fear and falling apart around them and there was no end to it in sight.

How long would this last? Until everyone in their school was dead? Until the entire town was wiped clean off the map?

Closing his eyes, Deuce took a deep breath, urging the thoughts away from the moment. Straightening up, he grabbed the bag of treats from his passenger seat and turned his car off, before he got out and made his way up to the house. The bitter cold of the afternoon bit at his skin and made his snakes recede under his beanie with hisses of displeasure.

"Hello, Deuce," Heath's mom greeted him as she opened the door, "What brings you here, today?"

Deuce held up the bag, "I just thought I'd come by and see how Heath's doing, maybe try and raise his spirits."

The smile on her face was a sad one as she stood to the side and let him come in. He could smell something cooking on the stove in the kitchen.

"I'll let you know right now, he hasn't been in the mood for company," Edana explained as she led him up the stairs, "So if he does or says anything out of line, I apologize for him in advance."

"No need," Deuce insisted, "I know he knows it'll take a lot more than a few low blows to scare me away. Plus, I can't blame him. It's not every day that...you know...that happens..."

He fumbled as he realized the original conclusion of his sentence sounded rather insensitive. He blushed in embarassment, but Edana just gave him a half-hearted smile of understanding over her shoulder.

They stopped in front of Heath's room. The door was closed. Edana raised her hand and knocked on it with the back of her hand.

"Heath?" she called, "Deuce is here. He has something for you."

There was silence from the other end. Then, inside, Heath called out in a weak voice, "_Come in." _

Edana grasped the door handle and turned it. She stood to the side again as she opened it to allow Deuce to enter first. The gorgon walked in slowly, mentally bracing himself for anything that was about to happen.

Heath was laying on his bed on top of the covers. He was wearing a simple pair of drawstring lounge pants and a t-shirt, allowing Deuce to see his injured arm from where it had been propped up on a pillow beside him. Deuce clenched his fists at the sight of the bandaged stump that arose out of the fire elmental's sleeve like a giant worm. From his bicep and onward, Heath's entire left arm was missing.

Turning his gaze away from where he'd been watching the television, though it was obvious he wasn't really paying attention to the program, Heath smiled up at his friend. There were dark, pronounced circles under his eyes and his skin was pale; he looked almost ill.

"Hey, man," he greeted tiredly.

"Hey," Deuce said back, "I, um...just wanted to check in."

Edana looked back and forth between them, before she started pulling the door closed.

"I'll leave you two alone," she said. She stepped back into the hallway and closed the door, leaving the two teens alone in the room.

Heath looked down at the plastic bag Deuce was holding.

"What'd you get me?" he asked.

Deuce looked down, momentarily forgetting that he had it with him. "Uh, just some soda and candy. I figured you could use some comfort food."

That earned him a smile from the fire elemental, though it lacked any of Heath's usual vigor or mischief.

"Thanks, man," he said, "Is that Moutain Boo? You always know me so well."

"Considering I've known you since we were twelve, I'd be kind of an ass not to," Deuce joked as he walked over to sit at Heath's bedside.

Heath sat himself up with his right arm as the gorgon took a spot on the edge of the bed. Deuce fished the bottle out of the bag and held it out to him.

Something flickered in Heath's eyes as he stared down at it; his face fell and he looked away, ashamed.

"Could you, um..." he mumbled, "Open it for me?"

Deuce paused. “Oh...oh, o-oh yeah! Of course, sorry!”

He took the bottle back for a second and undid the cap, handing it to Heath as the latter held out his right hand.

“Thanks,” Heath muttered, “I tried to do it myself earlier with a bottle of water by holding it between my knees, but I misjudged how hard I was pressing and ended up squirting water all over myself.”

He took a swig of the soda and let out a small sigh. His eyes dropped to the red bottle; he stared at it for a long time, absentmindedly watching the little bubbles swim up to the surface and burst as he swirled the red liquid around.

Beside him, Deuce watched him, his brows furrowed in concern. It was almost fascinating, watching what had to be a thousand different emotions run through his friend’s face. Suddenly, his expression scrunched up in despair and his eyes filled with tears.

“He took my arm,” he said in a pained voice, “He took my _fucking _arm, man. First Abbey, and now...now...”

His grip on the bottle tightened. The soda inside squeezed up to the rim and threatened to spill over.

Deuce didn’t respond for a few minutes. He just sat there, watching his friend.

Then, finally, he silently reached over and slowly pried the bottle out of Heath’s hand; he stood up and placed it on the nightstand, before he turned back to the fire elemental.

With the gentleness of someone approaching a spooked animal, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Heath, enveloping him in a hug. Heath immediately collapsed in his arms and clenched his jacket with his lone hand.

“It’s okay, let it out,” he said softly as he heard the fire elemental immediately begin to weep against his chest, “I know, just let it out.”

“I can still feel it, man,” Heath sobbed into his sweatshirt, “It still hurts like there’s something still _there, _but there’s not. It hurts so badly, like he’s fucking in here, doing it all over again. It won’t stop.

“I keep dreaming about it,” he continued, “Every moment plays clearly, like my head won’t let me forget it. When they’re not about that, they’re about Abbey or Clawd or Gil. It’s like _he’s _there, reaching into my mind and rewinding them to play over and over. I’m going insane, dude. I-I-I don’t know what to do...”

“Shhh,” Deuce said soothingly.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Heath’s pain-filled sobs echoing through the room as he completely broke down. Deuce just stood there and held him, allowing him to sob against his chest and get the front of his sweatshirt dirty with tears and snot.

Deuce clenched his jaw tightly. He’d only seen Heath cry a handful of times in the all the years they’d known each other, and most of the time those had been when they were kids and he had gotten his feelings hurt or had fallen and hurt himself.

Never before, though, had he seen the fire elemental so distraught before, so utterly full of grief and pain and so _broken _before. It was like everything he’d bottled up for the last few months- Abbey, Clawd, Romulus, and now, this incident with his arm and the devastating news about Gil- had finally reached the boiling point and spilled out.

Hell, he was barely holding it all together himself. Only when Deuce knew he was alone, when his mom wasn’t home, did he finally allow himself to to fall apart. Ever since they’d learned about Gil, a deep wound had opened up in his chest, like he was being stabbed over and over in the same spot, that sometimes made it feel like he couldn’t even breathe as he grieved for his friend. He couldn’t imagine how much worse he’d be if something like what Heath had been through had happened to him, or if something had happened to Cleo.

But right now, he needed to hold it together for his friend. So he did and tried his best to silently comfort Heath as the redhead lost it.

Finally, after a few minutes, Heath’s hoarse sobs finally subsided into small little hiccups. He pulled away and wiped at his eyes with the palm of his hand.

“I’m like a fucking invalid now, dude,” he sniffed, “I need fucking help with _everything_. Showering, eating, fucking getting dressed. I feel so...so _useless _now. I fucking hate it.”

“I know,” Deuce said softly as he resumed his seat beside him, “And I know this all just sounds like a bunch of bullshit coming from me because I’m your friend, but...we’ll help you every step of the way. You ever need to call me, I’m there.”

Heath raised his head and gave him a tired smile of appreciation.

Just then, though, a thought seemed to come to him. His gaze slid towards the floor and he frowned. His brows knit together as he seemed to have a realization.

“Call...shit!” he suddenly exclaimed, “I completely forgot, I was supposed to call Jackson! Fuck!”

His turmoil and physical discomfort momentarily forgotten, Heath sharply turned to the left and dove for his phone on the night stand. He clumsily tried to type in his passcode as Deuce stared at him, confused.

“What? What happened?” the gorgon asked.

Heath ignored him and scrolled through his contacts to his cousin’s number. He held the phone to his ear and waited; his foot bounced up and down all the while. After a minute, he pulled it away and glared down at the screen in frustration.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “Holt’s probably in control right now. He’s probably even ignoring me on purpose.”

“Heath, what’s the problem?” Deuce questioned again, “What are you so worried about?”

Heath didn’t look at him as he stared down at his phone; he pulled up his messages and typed out a string of texts.

“Apparently, my cousin got a fire lit up under his ass from what happened to me and Scarah decided that he was going to go full-on conspiracy theorist and drove all the way to the human side of New Salem to barge up to Lilith Van Hellscream’s to personally tell her that he’d hurt her if he even received an inkling that his suspicions about her were correct,” he ranted, shaking his head in annoyance.

Deuce’s brows shot up to his hairline in shock. He asked, “He threatened her?”

Heath shook his head incredulously. “Ever since Clawd, he’s been on this downward spiral ever since. And now, after Gil and especially after...after _this...” _

He gestured to the stump that was left of his left arm, “He’s gone off the rails. He won’t listen to any sort of reason- not even from me or Frankie.”

He looked over at Deuce with a bit of guilty look, like he was a bit ashamed to say whatever was on his mind.

“I don’t think he’s bluffing,” he admitted, “I really think he’s planning on doing something, no matter if he’s wrong or not.”

Deuce cringed. He remembered back in October when they had been pulled over by the sheriff and Holt had mouthed off at the latter like he hadn’t a care in the world. It had been so out of character, even if he’d never had much of a filter, especially with the way he had snapped at Frankie afterward.

He hadn’t been very talkative the last few months, either, now that Deuce thought about it. Slowly, he’d been drifting away from everyone; he didn’t come out as much, or if he was, he seemed to always be skipping school when he was around. Frankie seemed to be the only person besides Heath who Holt still regularly talked to at the moment.

And if he’d been just as heated about the whole situation as he’d been before things truly got worse, than who could say what he was doing when he was alone?

“Do you really think he actually intends to hurt Lilith?” Deuce asked, “I mean, Holt’s a hothead, yeah, but he’s never gone out of his way to actually bring harm to someone...”

“Deuce, this is _Holt _we’re talking about. The guy who singlehandedly managed to get himself a lifetime ban from The Seventh Circle for starting a fight that ended with the sprinklers flooding the entire venue all because some rando bumped into Operetta,” Heath said, “My aunt put the fear of God so heavily onto the kids on our block who’d pick on Jackson with her shifting that for years, them and even some of the parents were convinced she was a serial killer who ate children.

“Do you _honestly _think that Holt wouldn’t have it in him to go out and make someone’s life absolute hell if he thought they deserved it?” he quizzed, giving the gorgon a daring look.

Deuce opened his mouth to respond, but then quickly closed it, unable to find the words to argue back.

Behind his shades, he let his gaze drift to his sneakers. He felt a pang of shame ring out in him as somewhere deep down, he couldn’t help but agree with Heath’s statement.

It was a shitty feeling, but he had also known Holt and Jackson long enough to be able to see what he was talking about. Holt had never been one known for his patience, nor was he one to let someone live things down when they did him wrong.

This whole mess was messing with all of them and making them feel all sorts of ways, but Holt was taking it to the next level.

Maybe Heath’s words had some truth to them. Maybe him and Jackson had inherited a lot more of Henry and Edward than anyone of them thought…

When he finally looked up at Heath, his face was grim.

“So, what do we do?” Deuce asked.

Heath admitted, “Is there anything we _can _do? By this point, I don’t think all the anti-monster charms in the world could affect Holt.”

He looked at the wall with a grim expression. “I don’t even fucking know, man. It’s too much, all this shit. Way too much.”

Deuce nodded in agreement. They lapsed into silence once again, neither of them knowing in the mood for talking any longer; they wouldn’t know what to say if they wanted to.

Nothing they could do.

What a way to sum up everything they were going through right now.

Absolutely nothing they could do.

* * *

Frankie dipped the brush into the paint can and dunked it up and down rapidly, getting the old bristles covered in a nice, thick coat of blue paint, before she pulled it out with a bit more force than necessary and slapped it against the wall. She brushed up and down with fast, angry strokes, spreading the paint evenly over the wall.

Her movements were stiff and forceful as she reached back down and practically slammed the paint brush back into the can. Her brows were knit and her lips were pursed together in a tight frown; she glared at the wall like it had personally offended her on some level. Little sparks of electricity bounced off her bolts at times; had anyone else been there, it would’ve been clear that the simulacrum was angry.

She’d come over to Mr. Amerou’s again to help him refurnish his office; initially, she hadn’t been in the mood for going anywhere, but she figured that doing a little housework with him would help her get her mind off Jackson and Holt.

And it had, at the beginning. Mr. Amerou and her made friendly conversation as she helped him move the furniture out the room into the front parlor and lay out cardboard on the floor and painter’s tape on the baseboards and doors. Mr. Amerou’s phone rang from downstairs just as he was pouring the paint onto the trays, though, and he ended up having to excuse himself to answer it.

That left her alone to start on the walls, and without anything else to distract her, Frankie’s thoughts lapsed back to replaying the argument she had had with her boyfriends the previous day, particularly what Holt had said to her after she told him he needed to stop whatever he was planning on with Lilith.

That caused the anger and disbelief to come rushing back like a tidal wave, hence now why she was attacking the walls like she was trying to erase a crude remark and blur it out with the paint.

Her teeth grit as Holt’s words replayed in her head. Her grip tightened on the paint brush.

No matter what he was feeling, Frankie thought everything he had said to her had been purely out of line. Who the hell did he think he was, talking to her like that? Calling her a sheep and a candy-ass? Frankie knew she was a lot of things, but she knew for a fact a coward wasn’t one of them.

“’It kinda runs in my family,’” she muttered to herself, repeating Holt’s rude remark, “Like he’s the only one who’s ancestor did a lot of batshit crazy things. Still doesn’t excuse him acting like that.”

As she dwelled on it, though, the anger slowly began to fade and was replaced with hurt. Frankie’s face relaxed into a more melancholic expression; she slowed on her painting, before she lowered the brush and paused for a minute.

_How could he even think for a second I would ever think that about him? That I would think he was like his ancestor? _She thought, feeling a lump in her throat.

Him and Jackson both had made the same implication. They’d been so accusatory, like they were in disbelief over the fact that that thought _hadn’t _crossed her mind. How could they ever think that of her? They should’ve known her better than that…

Before she could help herself, Frankie felt her eyes well with tears. She reached up with the back of her hand to wipe at them. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and sniffed.

“Hey, Frankie, have you seen the other-”

Startled by the sudden sound of Mr. Amerou’s voice, Frankie whirled around. She misjudged how close she was to one of the paint cans, though, and both her and Mr. Amerou stumbled back in surprise as she accidentally kicked it, sending blue paint splattering across the cardboard-covered floor as it tipped over and spilled.

“Shit!” Frankie exclaimed, her hand going to her mouth in horror, “I’m so sorry!”

She dropped the paint brush in the can and and looked around frantically for something to clean it up with. She spotted a roll of paper towels by the window and swiped them, messily tearing off a few as she hurried over to the ever growing paint splatter and bent down to start wiping it up.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated as she quickly began to dab at the paint, “I should’ve been paying more attention, but I was completely distracted and now the floor’s a mess and that’s one whole can gone to waste and-”

Mr. Amerou bent down and seized her arm, making her pause in her cleaning up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, there!” he exclaimed, “It’s all right! That’s why we have the cardboard there in the first place, in case something like this happened! It’s no big deal.”

“I still should’ve been paying more attention,” Frankie insisted, “I was too caught up in my thoughts, and now we’re gonna have to delay getting everything done just to clean up the mess so it doesn’t leak through the cardboard onto the floor and I just...I’m sorry, I’m so ditzy, I just...”

She was unable to continue as she felt another wave of emotion come over her. She clenched her fists in frustration, cursing as her vision went blurry again. How embarrassing- she was supposed to be helping him with his house, not getting worked up over something that had nothing to do with the situation at hand.

Mr. Amerou frowned at her reaction. He tilted his head and released her arm to gently lay his hand near her elbow.

“Something tells me that a little spilled paint isn’t what you’re upset about,” he said, “What’s on your mind?”

Frankie shook her head reluctantly. She hurriedly wiped at her eyes again, trying not to give in to the urge to just sit on the floor and cry.

“I-It’s nothing,” she said dismissively, “It’s just something that happened with me and my boyfriend and with the stress of everything now...”

She couldn’t say anymore as her throat closed up. Mr. Amerou, though, didn’t look like he was buying it at all.

“Frankie, please, you can tell me,” he urged, “I’m not here to judge. Whatever happened as obviously upset you and you look like you need someone to talk to. You don’t have to try and act like everything’s all right- I understand. This is a horrible, dangerous time we’re living in, especially for someone as young as you.”

Frankie looked up at him, her eyes reddened and her mascara smudged, unsure of whether or not to tell him. He regarded her with a worried look; she glanced down at the wet paper towels in her hand.

“It’s...it’s complicated,” she finally admitted, “It has a lot to do with the...the situation going on now, but some of it is from things that went on long before you moved here.”

“Then tell me from the beginning,” Mr. Amerou said, “I’m all ears. Here, let’s go the living room and sit.”

She allowed him to tug her to her feet and direct her out of the office. He led her with one hand on her shoulder to the living area, the two of them navigating around the furniture they’d pulled out the office and walking over to the couch, where they sat beside one another.

Mr. Amerou grabbed a box of tissues from the coffee table and handed them to her. Frankie accepted a few with words of thanks and began to dab at her eyes.

“Now,” the older unknown cryptid said, “What’s going on?”

Frankie fumbled with the tissues in her hands, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. She was still a little conflicted over whether or not to tell him- if something came out the wrong way or he misunderstood something, that could only create more trouble for Jackson and Holt.

Yet, she found herself desperately needing to let it out, and here he was, offering an ear to listen. So, finally, Frankie sighed and began.

“Since everything’s gone done, you’ve probably heard people talk about an ‘incident’ that happened around Halloween last year...” she narrated.

She told him about the whole beef that Monster High had had with New Salem High the previous year and how that had led into Holt’s suspicions ever since kids started going missing. She also explained how Van Hellscream factored into all of this and the ties between that scandal and the missing kids.

As she finally ended with her explanation of the argument she’d had with both Jackson and Holt, Mr. Amerou nodded in understanding.

“That does sound worrisome,” he commented, “And your boyfriend has never acted like this before? The blue one, I mean?”

“No,” Frankie answered, “I mean, Holt’s always been one to get heated way too quickly, and he _especially _has always had a mouth, but he’s never been one to act like he actually _wanted _to hurt someone before, much less actually carry it out.”

She frowned, “I tried to reason with him and Jackson, and they both said the same thing; they pretty much acted like I shouldn’t be surprised that they- or more specifically, Holt- was acting like it, considering their family history.”

“They’re related to the original Dr. Jekyll, right?” Mr. Amerou asked.

Frankie nodded, “He was their great-grandfather. Well, _one _of their great-grandfathers. That’s why they have the whole share-a-body thing going on.”

Mr. Amerou replied, “Maybe this whole mystery has them reflecting on that. Maybe they’ve realized how this has been making them feel and act and they’re thinking they see similarities between them and their ancestor.”

“But that’s the thing,” Frankie countered, “Besides the shifting and Holt being a maybe too easy to irritate at times, they’re nothing like Jekyll or Hyde was. But now Jackson acts like he thinks Holt is sincerely going to hurt Lilith, and Holt...well, he didn’t make it sound like he was entirely opposed to the idea.”

Her shoulders slumped in sadness, “They’re good guys. Really, they are. I just...don’t believe that they could be capable of something like that.”

“If it’s truly in their nature, then pushing it down like it doesn’t exist is only going to hurt them both in the end,” Mr. Amerou said, “Acknowledging that isn’t a bad thing in and of itself. Sometimes, it’s only by acknowledging that a feature is fundamentally part of you that you can truly improve on it. Otherwise, you’re just forcing a front, pushing someone to be something they’re not. It could very well be their undoing.”

Frankie tilted her head up at him, curious. “You sound like you know a bit from experience,” she said softly.

He gave her a sad smile, “Quite a lot, actually. A lot more than I care to admit. You and your friends are lucky to go to such a school where the mantra is all about being yourself and embracing your flaws. Where I came from, such thoughts were a guarantee to get you the worst punishment.”

This piqued Frankie’s interest. Mr. Amerou had never mentioned anything about his upbringing before, or even what his life was like before he came to New Salem. She had presumed it was just because he was a pretty private person and probably didn’t like to talk about himself.

Now, he looked out across the room with a faraway look. His mouth contorted down in a frown as he looked down at his large, hairy paw-like hands.

“You see, my upbringing was a bit like yours,” he started, “I was born to a scientist; the result of a genetic experiment that spliced together different animal genomes in order to create an entirely different species. More specifically, my siblings and I were created in order to be human.”

Frankie frowned in confusion. “You were created from different animals...in order to be a human? How does that work?”

Mr. Amerou smiled at her. “Sounds pretty puzzling out loud, doesn’t it? Maybe I should elaborate.

“My creator- my ‘father’, if you will- was a man obsessed with the idea of the ‘perfect’ man,” he explained, “He was obsessed with this idea that mankind’s potential had been squandered due to the the ‘savagery’ that still existed within people. The thought that humans were perfectly capable of being refined, quick-witted beings that weren’t tied down by so-called detrimental emotions like malice or greed. My father thought these were animalistic traits, something that dumb beasts felt as a means to live for themselves, and hence, a failure of evolution.”

He cradled one hand to his chest and rubbed it with his other one like it was bothering him. Frankie remained quietly, waiting for him to go on.

“He believed he could create a human who was incapable of feeling these traits,” Mr. Amerou continued, “One who wasn’t chained by such nonsense like malice or pain or such primitive yearning for only surviving. So he began to experiment on animals, seeking a means to turn them human, believing that he could splice out the genes that are ‘responsible’ for man’s downfall.”

His face became troubled. He started to rub a spot on his forearm that had been exposed from where he’d rolled up his shirt sleeve. Frankie looked down to see that it was covered with long, thick scars, neat and orderly ones like that from a surgery.

“Of course, you can’t just take a sheep and remove all the genes that make it a sheep and expect you’re going to have Adonis,” he said, “The experiments were flawed. Us ‘children’ ended up hybrids, a grotesque mix that wasn’t quite man nor beast. We had the sentience to learn and act and talk like humans, but obviously, our appearance and the inherent instinct that is wired into every wild animal was enough for anyone to see we were far from the apparent perfect man my father had been striving for.

He glared down at his arm hatefully, one claw tracing the faded scars that ran down to his elbow.

“My father was determined to see his experiment succeed, though. Through any means necessary. No matter the cost,” Mr. Amerou continued, “He made us undergo numerous surgeries and procedures to correct our animal traits. They were painful- very painful. But pain was just another flaw he thought humans had, so he believed the only solution was to keep performing these surgeries until we couldn’t feel pain and were finally ‘perfect.’”

“Oh, Mr. Amerou...” Frankie said.

She felt her stomach clench at the thought of whatever kinds of experiments he’d been forced to go through. The scars on his arms looked deep and painful; some even looked like they’d been cut open more than once.

“It wasn’t just medical procedures, though,” Mr. Amerou said, “He had rules set up for us. His own personal laws that we had to follow to make us good ‘men.’ Many of us were carnivores, but we couldn’t eat meat, we weren’t allowed to walk on all fours no matter how much it hurt our legs- stuff like that.

“If one of us was discovered breaking these laws, he shocked us using implants he had inserted under our skin. He said it was to help us, but I knew the truth. He enjoyed controlling us, keeping us in line. With his experiments he got to be his own personal God, and us all his faithful servants for him to bless and punish at will.”

His hand drifted over to feel at a spot under his ribs through the fabric of his sweater. His face was deeply lined with dismay at the memories, his eyes now hardened and dark with what seemed to be a suppressed rage.

“That sounds terrible,” Frankie exclaimed, “How long did you live like that?”

“For well over ten years,” Mr. Amerou replied, “Over ten years and over dozens of failed specimens. It wasn’t until he died that finally the torture ended once and for all. And that came after one of his subjects finally snapped and they killed each other in a fight; after that, it was all downhill from there. Everyone started running wild, bringing chaos and confusion to our island.”

Frankie didn’t know how to respond to that. Mr. Amerou let out a heavy sigh; they sat in silence for a minute, before he turned back to face her again.

“That was quite a tangent, wasn’t it?” he joked, before his face turned serious again, “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is this: If your boyfriends acting this way is indeed inherently linked to their lineage, then it’s not going to help them to just push it away and deny that it’s a problem. My father’s death came about because he tried too hard to deny that our animal instincts were the very part of our nature. He tried to fight it and in the end, all it did was make our behavior emerge even stronger until nearly all of us were out of control. Do you understand?”

Frankie looked down at her lap and nodded, “If this aggression is somehow- _somehow- _comes as part of their abilities, like Holt’s fire powers or their shifting, then I should probably address that to them? As a way to help them?”

Mr. Amerou nodded, “I’m not saying it’s a solid fact- considering our circumstances, fear and stress manifest in different ways, so it may just truly be one of them projecting as a means to deal with it. But if it hypothetically is, and it sounds like they’re in some way convinced it is, then ignoring may only end up getting someone hurt either way.”

Frankie bit her lip. She felt conflicted- in way, she could see his point, but a large part of her just couldn’t accept the idea that it was just in their nature for either boy to be this aggressive.

She’d always been a person who thought that argument was ludicrous, if not cop-out; for centuries, monsters had been persecuted because people were willing to disregard any other quality they had by arguing it was “in their nature” to be nothing but violent savages. Jackson and Holt had always expressed their wariness of echoing any kind of action of Dr. Jekyll, so it seemed so shitty to disregard all of that simply because of who they shared blood with.

“I’m not saying that you should rally the mob and start treating them with a ten-foot pole,” Mr. Amerou clarified, “But if they bring that point up again, maybe you can acknowledge it. Maybe coming from you, that will be enough for them to realize how they’re acting. I’ve always heard women’s intuition is the most reliable form of judgment.”

Frankie chuckled a little and smiled at him. She said, “Thanks, Mr. A.”

“You’re welcome,” the older cryptid replied with his own smile, “I hope everything works about between you three. You guys already have enough to deal with, you don’t need relationship problems added to rub salt in the wound.”

They finally stood up from the couch. Frankie pulled out her phone to glance at the time. Her eyes went wide when she saw it was already a quarter to five.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, looking up at Mr. Amerou, “I didn’t realize how much time passed!”

“It’s all right,” Mr. Amerou, holding up a hand to stop her, “I didn’t think we were going to get very far anyway- moving all that furniture was a pain in the ass and already took up more time than I wanted. Tell you what, how about I let you off for the night?”

“Are you sure?” Frankie asked.

Mr. Amerou nodded, “Sure. I think we both can use a break for now. I’ll pay you for helping me move stuff out the office and then I’ll drive you home. Sound good?”

Though a part of her wanted to insist that she could still work, Frankie found that after their talk, she no longer had the energy to even argue. So she gave a nod and said, “Okay.”

As Mr. Amerou left towards the kitchen to get his wallet and keys, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. The caller ID said it was from Lilith.

“Hello?” she answered.

“_Frankie, hey!” _Lilith responded, “_You get out of school at 2:30, right?” _

“Um...yeah, why?” Frankie asked.

“_Are you free this Friday afterward? No plans or anything?” _the blonde continued, ignoring her question.

Frankie frowned, puzzled. “I...shouldn’t. Why, do you want to hang out? Because I still have a curfew per the police’s orders.”

“_Don’t worry, this __shouldn’t be that long,” _Lilith said, “_Friday’s a half day for us, so I’ll pick you up right after you get out._

“_Be ready,” _she explained, “_You’re coming with me to go see my uncle. It’s about time we finally got answers out of him." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note: Abbey's statement in Yettish isn't an actual language, but just a sentence with the words and spelling put backwards.


	16. Chapter 15: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Previous warnings apply.

“M-M-Meowlody...I don’t feel very good...m-my head hurts...”

“You’re just dehydrated, Purrsephone. It’ll be okay, we’ll get out of here soon.”

“’m tired...I-I just...j-just want to rest...”

“Purrsephone? Purrsephone, listen to me! Hang in there, w-w-we’re going to get you out, okay?! Don’t leave me now, d-don’t give up on me right now...”

“Just wanna...just wanna rest a bit...rest a bit and...”

“...P-Purrsephone? Purrsephone! Purrsephone, a-answer me! Answer me, dammit!”

“...”

“N-N-No….no, NO! _PURRSEPHONE__!”_

* * *

_(Six hours earlier…) _

“It’s a shame that it’s come to this. Truly, it is,” the masked man lamented, “I had hope that you were unlike from the others. That you were truly had it in you. Maybe things could’ve been different...”

Clawd didn’t respond. He sat crumbled in the desk chair, a  distant look on his face as he stared blankly at a stain on the floor. He paid no attention to what the masked man was doing in front of him, the only indication being some sort of bubbling sound that was similar to that of water boiling on a stove. 

The masked man turned around to face him.  He leaned back against the table as he crossed his arms and shook his head in disappointment. 

“Instead, you’ve only proven it’s all but a facade,” he scolded, “You’re supposed to be an alpha, yet all you do is cry and whine; not even the littlest bit of fight is in you. You sicken me- you ought to be ashamed. Your ancestors suffered through worse and you’re all they have to show for it.”

“Then why don’t you just put me out of my misery already?” Clawd asked defeatedly, his eyes lulling from the spot on the wall to regard the masked man. His gaze was dull and deadened with surrender. 

The masked man replied, “I should. By all means, it would  be doing that pitiful raggedy group of mutts you call a pack for me to just slit your throat already. 

“But...” he added, “As you _are _the child of an alpha wolf, I think it would only be fair that I give you _special _means of departing.” 

His words made Clawd stiffen with agitation at what he had in mind. His stare grew tense as he looked away from the masked man and turned his attention to what was behind him. On the surface of the table lay a portable stove; the hot plate had been turned on and atop it rested a  glass pitcher filled with water that bubbled from the heat. Next to that was a brown glass bottle filled with some sort of opaque solid substance and a bag of crushed neon purple flowers that Clawd immediately recognized as wolfsbane. 

The masked man nodded as he watched realization dawn on the werewolf at the strange  ingredients. 

“Yes,” he answered, even with no question uttered, “One final test, if you will. Though you could say this is more for the people looking for you than you.”

He reached around for the pitcher- its contents now fully boiling- and took it off the stove and turned off the hot plate. As it was cooling, he grabbed the bag of wolfsbane and dumped in its contents into it, before turning to the bottle of silver nitrate and dumping its entire contents in as well.

He took a wooden spoon from his belt and stirred everything around in the pitcher; the water turned a murky, sickly brown color as the leaves and petals of the wolfsbane diffused into it.

Placing the wooden spoon down, the masked man turned to Clawd.

“I hope you’re thirsty,” he said, gesturing to the pitcher, “I would hate to have to finish this off myself.”

He pulled out something from his pocket and held it between both hands as he made his way over to Clawd. It was a leather spider gag with a stainless steel ring and long prongs jutting out from either side.

“N-N-N-No, no,” Clawd whimpered as the latter approached him, eyeing the gag with terror.

He tried to struggle as the masked man bent over and pulled the gag around his neck and attempted to put the ring in his mouth; he pressed his lips together and darted his head to the side, only for his defenses to go down as the masked man reached down and dug his claws into one of the large gashes in his thigh, causing Clawd to scream and allowing the masked man to shove the ring in and pull the the gag taught around him.

“Agghrh, argh!” Clawd exclaimed, unable to form any words as the o-ring force his jaws apart and the prongs pushed his lips out the way. He thrashed weakly in his chair, tears pricking his eyes at the pain of the o-ring that forced his jaws apart and the overall situation.

The masked man swiped the pitcher off the table and walked back over toward him. He grabbed for the hair at the back of Clawd’s head and yanked, forcing the werewolf to look up as Clawd let out a cry of pain.

He bent over real quick and came back up with a funnel that he placed through the o-ring of the gag; Clawd choked around the tube as it tickled the back of his throat. He glanced up at the masked man with a pleading look.

“Let’s hope they can find you in time before the poison runs its course,” the masked man muttered.

He held Clawd’s head back as the werewolf screamed and kicked as he started pouring the pitcher’s contents into the funnel. Clawd screeched in agony as the lethal mixture filled his mouth and was forced down his throat; the boiling water burned the inside of his mouth and tongue and his chin from where he gagged against it and it spilled out from over his lips. Involuntarily, he ended up swallowing several gulps as he struggled to breathe, the liquid scalding against his pharynx and esophagus.

Right away, he could feel the effects of the silver and wolfsbane attacking his body. A horrible searing sensation filled his chest and stomach. Tidal waves of pain slammed against his skull, causing him to convulse in his seat. He had a sudden taste of metal in his mouth and the water he spat out became tinged with red as blood came back up his throat and filled his mouth.

The masked man continued pouring until the pitcher was empty. As he shook out the last drops, he let his arm drop to his side. He grabbed the funnel and tossed it over his shoulder, before he into Clawd’s mouth and finally pulled the gag free.

Clawd lunged forward and spat out the rest of the water, soaking the front of his feet. He gagged and coughed against the bitterness; his chest racked with such force it caused the cuts that now marked his front to start bleeding again.

He made a noise of choking, before he doubled over again and a rush of bloody vomit spilled forth from his cracked lips; it splashed onto his lap and legs and splattered onto the floor, coating the cement a startling shade of red.

Clawd vomited again, reeling back with a needy gasp; he couldn’t breathe. His lungs were on fire and his throat felt like it was swelling up. His stomach felt like it was about to burst open, the silver and wolfsbane like battery acid in his organs. His muscles tensed painfully.

He heaved again, this time unable to sit back up. Black dots danced in front of his vision. The pain in his body made him feel like he was about to explode.

Silently, the masked man walked over to the back of the chair. He reached into the pouch at his belt and pulled out a key. He reached for the handcuffs and quietly unlocked each cuff from around Clawd’s wrist, before he bent down and did the same thing for the ones around his ankles.

Clawd slid forward off the chair as the last cuff was undone, any remaining strength long since lost from the pain and lack of nutrition. He collapsed onto his side on the floor, groaning as he curled up into a ball.

His breathing was now reduced to shallow pants. Everything hurt. He couldn’t think straight.

A dark shadow came over him. Clawd raised his head, squinting up at the blurred figure standing over him.

The masked man looked down at him, watching him. The fine white beak of his mask glinted in the light like a polished wolf’s tooth.

Clawd just gave him another groan, before his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness.

* * *

_(Now…) _

Grindylow stood in front of the pin-board he and Firth had assembled, glaring at it with a stony expression. He had his elbow resting in the palm of one hand, while his other held his chin in a gesture of thought. Said hand also had a cigarette held between his pointer and middle fingers.

He wasn’t supposed to be smoking in the building, but Grindylow couldn’t really bring himself to care at the moment. Currently, he was too caught up in the news he’d received and in his stress found himself reaching for his pack before he could stop himself.

Clawd Wolf was alive. The young werewolf had been found unconscious in a clearing in Howlisades Park this morning by a couple of dogwalkers, covered in blood and barely clinging to life. From what Firth had told him, the paramedics were lucky by mere minutes.

“He was in very grave condition,” Firth had reported, “Aside from severe blood loss and malnutrition, he had a lethal level of silver and wolfsbane in his bloodstream. He’s been put in an induced coma to help stabilize him.”

So now, out of seventeen missing kids, that left them with two alive and five dead, with the other ten still unaccounted for, as well as another five who’d not been kidnapped but had been assaulted by the killer. The numbers weren’t really promising.

Grindylow reached for the stack of sticky notes on the table beside him. He put his cigarette between his teeth and bent down to write down something on the sticky note on top with a sharpie. He then peeled the note off and stood up, holding it up between his hands as he approached the pin-board.

Below Clawd’s picture, he placed the sticky note. It had _ALIVE _scribbled on top of it. Grindylow stepped back and eyed it as he took a drag. His eyes roamed to where a similar sticky note had been scribbled alongside a picture of Silvi.

Only two known survivors, and one of them couldn’t even give a statement. Fantastic.

He blew out the smoke and took another drag as he picked up the folder that Firth had handed him. In it contained the results of the examination Firth and Vitae had performed when they had driven down the hospital earlier to find out the details of Clawd’s situation.

He’d been in the middle of reading the medical report- his nose wrinkled as he read how Clawd had needed forty-two stitches in the side of his face for his torn cheek- when Vitae suddenly burst through the doors of the conference room.

“Chief!” she exclaimed, “We found something, I think you should come see.”

Grindylow looked over his shoulder at her. “Any word from the human sheriff?”

Vitae shook her head. “No, but I think it _will _help us weed out our list of suspects.”

Grindylow let the folder fall shut and tossed it onto the table. He took one last drag of his cigarette before he dunked it into his now-cold cup of coffee.

“Shouldn’t someone like you be all about _not _smoking and not contributing to air pollution?” Vitae asked as he walked up to her.

“I was, and then I took this damned job,” Grindylow commented.

They hurried down the hall to the office area, where Firth and Sheriff Effo were looking over some documents and muttering to each other.

“Please tell me there is at least some good news to any of this,” Grindylow said as he approached them.

The two of them raised their heads at him. Firth took hold of the documents and handed them out to him.

“Maybe, just maybe there is,” he said.

Grindylow took the documents and looked down at them. They were various police reports from outside the county.

“I got in touch with the force over in Portland last week,” Effo explained, “I thought if the humans didn’t know anything, than maybe the next city over would, even though I was already convinced we’d hit just another dead end.

“But to my surprise, the head of the department said they actually have a few incidents on record that somewhat go hand in hand,” he added.

He pulled one of the reports out from under the pile and placed it on top of the stack for Grindylow to see.

“Back in September, they had a few missing persons cases that ended in homicide investigations,” Effo explained, “But they couldn’t track down any reasonable suspects or evidence and all of them eventually were declared cold.

“That turned into us discussing the cases, which led me into contacting the department over in Eugene, and then contacting the one in Screamfield, and so on,” he said, crossing his arms, “That’s when we realized it.”

Grindylow read down the report that he’d pulled out. It was one a miss “Lycana Wilde” who’d been reported missing in September and whose body was later discovered in October in an abandoned mall. He flipped to the next page and skimmed it, before going on to the next report.

Effo raised a brow. “Notice anything?” he asked.

It seemed obvious at first, but then, as Grindylow read over the reports, something else stuck out to him.

He looked up at Effo. “They all occurred up North.”

Effo nodded in confirmation, “All the way back from Clawnada, going southwest and onward, each state experienced a sudden spike in missing persons cases, all of which ended with the person being found dead in either the landfill, a condemned location, or some other obvious dumping ground.

“All the victims were found to have been tortured for an extensive amount of time; except for one or two outliers, they’d been kept alive for a while before they were finally killed,” he said, “All of them monsters. Then just like that, they just stopped.”

Grindylow paused and looked up at him.

“Until now,” he commented.

“Until now,” Effo confirmed.

“Not just that,” Firth chimed in, “One of the departments in Screamfield just sent this in ten minutes ago. They said they found _this _at one of the crime scenes.”

He held out a photocopied picture. Grindylow took it and looked down at it; it portrayed a torn white sheet of notebook paper against what looked to be black asphalt. Scribbled on it in red sharpie was the following message:

_To not cower that is the law r we not meN???? _

It was the same handwriting as the killer’s._ Finally, _Grindylow thought, _Something we can fucking work with for once. _

“That was found on the body of a nineteen year old griffin,” Firth said, “A medical student by the name of Grayson Eaglewing, from Vancouver. Reported missing back in early January, body was later found in March in parking garage. Cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head, but obvious signs of bodily harm were present.”

Grindylow nodded, before he raised his head. “In layman’s terms: It’s our guy.”

“Definitely our guy,” Effo replied, “Looks like he’s had a habit of making his way across and leaving a trail of bodies, before he decided to settle in our town.”

“Did the department down in Vancouver have any idea what the hell this could mean?” Grindylow asked, holding up the picture.

Firth shook his head, “They were just as stumped. And, lo and behold: No prints or scent marker either. However, they _did _say they also had reports around the time that Grayson went missing of strange sightings around people’s neighborhoods.”

Grindylow’s lips formed into a thin line of displeasure. He said, “Let me guess: Someone dressed all in black with a white bird mask and a hat?”

“That,” Firth said, “_But_, there also were a few reports from some witnesses who had a bit of a different description.”

That caught the swamp monster’s attention immediately. An alternate sighting of the killer? Could it be that someone had finally managed to get him unmasked?

Seeing the shocked look on Grindylow’s voice, Firth gave a small smirk and led him over to his desk, Effo and Vitae following closely behind. Firth rummaged through the papers that were spread out over his keyboard and pulled one out, looking it over before handing it out to Grindylow. He pointed down at something typed on it with a robotic finger.

“Just a few months before the first kidnappings in Salem, back in August, a sixteen-year-old ghoul from Killsboro was reported missing after she left a party a few blocks from her house and failed to return home,” he said, “An elderly couple who lived in the area claimed they’d seen her walking down the sidewalk from their window as they watched TV. Only about a minute or so after she passed, they heard what sounded like her screaming, but when they went out to investigate, there was no trace of her, although she couldn’t have been more than three feet away from the house went it occurred.”

His electric green eyes lit up with child-like excitement as he continued, almost like he was getting to the good part of telling Grindylow a ghost story rather than recanting the events leading up to a murdered girl’s possible final night alive.

“At the same time, just one block over, a Mrs. Purrl Flamepoint was letting her dogs out from the back porch when she just _happened _to catch sight of a suspicious person lurking over by the trees; someone who just so happened to _not _be wearing a big bird mask,” he revealed.

Grindylow’s eyes widened. He looked down at the document to where Firth had been pointing. It had been a witness statement form.

_General Appearance: Most likely male, age unknown, height about six foot to six foot four. Weight likely about one-seventy-one to two-hundred. _

_Face was humanoid, but with animalistic qualities; most likely wereanimal or anthro. Hair color described as ‘dirty blondish-red’, long; looked to cover scalp and most of face. Noted to have dark pigmentation on forehead with what looked to be spots or moles. Ears stood out on top of scalp similar to feline or canid. Nose was flat, eyes appeared to be some kind of dark color, either dark brown or black. _

_Jaw was said to also have dark pigmentation and resembled some sort of muzzle. Witnesses says subject snarled at one point and revealed that teeth were sharp with pronounced canines. _

_Witness also claims that subject seemed to be somewhat transparent and glowing, similar to that of a ghost or poltergeist. Witness also did not detect any sort of scent. Subject seemed to be holding some unidentifiable white object in his hands. Witness did not attempt to engage with the subject. _

_Subject suddenly took off in the trees and disappeared behind pair of bushes. Witness examined the area for a few minutes longer, before going back inside. _

A sudden burst of adrenaline began to run through Grindylow’s veins. He gripped the papers as he re-read the report.

“And,” Firth spoke up, holding yet another paper out to him, “Mrs. Flamepoint was actually kind enough to give a police sketch.”

Grindylow took his eyes off the report to look at the drawing in the cyborg’s hands.

There, sketched out in charcoal, was finally a possible face to their killer.

Taking the picture from Firth, Grindylow brought it closer, carefully examining the sketch. The man displayed in the drawing definitely looked like he was some kind of animal cryptid- his pointed ears stood out from a raggedy mane of light colored hair, of which draped down to his shoulders and draped around his face in a matching beard. His nose and lips were darker than his cheeks and forehead. Little blobs of color were shaded around his forehead, sideburns, and cheeks to resemble spots. The nose was upturned to reveal large nostrils, while the philtrum was rather long and broad, similar to how it was on a canine’s muzzle. The brows were pronounced and covered in bushy hair, while several lines ran across the forehead. Jagged, uneven teeth stuck out from the man’s lips, possibly due to an underbite or their sheer size. The most noticeable ones, though, were the large canines that stuck out from his lower jaw like that of a warthog’s.

The sketch only extended as far as the shoulders, but the sketch artist had drawn them out to be thick and large and covered in course fur as well, the light shade suggesting it was the same color as the man’s hair. Similar spots like that on his forehead were dotted into the fur and his hair.

Grindylow furrowed his brows as he studied the face. The resemblance looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what species the guy looked to belong to. His eyes weren’t slanted and his coat didn’t seem thick enough for him to be a werecat, but he didn’t really fit the description of a werewolf or any other lycan species. For some reason, it made Grindylow think of the mongoose he saw at the zoo the time he went for his great-granddaughter’s birthday.

At the moment, though, it didn’t matter. Either way, they finally had an idea of what their perp looked like behind the false beak for once.

Vitae looked at the sketch from over Grindylow’s shoulder. Her nose wrinkled as she looked down at the face.

“That certainly seems like the type of person who’d rip out a teenager’s voice box,” she commented, “Though he doesn’t look like an animal species I’ve seen before.”

“You think maybe he’s a hybrid?” Firth asked.

Vitae shrugged, “Who knows. That still doesn’t explain the shadow traveling or the ghost-qualities, though.”

Her face lit up with as an idea seemed to come to her. She turned to Grindylow. “You think he’s using magic for it?”

“However he’s doing it, he’s definitely a sneaky fuck,” Grindylow mumbled, “He’s been leaving the breadcrumbs behind this whole time, and the fact it took us only just now to see that shows he’s been subtle enough to not draw so much attention that the entire nation will be watching.”

Firth made a face. “So why now, then? What reason does he have for stopping here and just making his mark? Why not keep moving?”

Grindylow’s face turned dark with hatred as he stated, “Because he wants something from the kids in this town. To see their ‘instinct’ or whatever it was the Timberwolf girl told us. And because he’s found something that allows him an extra opportunity to fuck with everyone.”

The papers wrinkled in his grip as his fists clenched. He felt a familiar spark of anger light up in him as he thought of the notes the smug bastard had left them.

Not to worry, though. He had finally messed up; now, they finally had an ace up their sleeve that could be used to their advantage.

The thought soothed the rage boiling in Grindylow’s chest. His face softened slightly as he turned back to Firth, his attention focused on the task at hand once again.

“I want to get Moreau back here, have him take a look at these,” he said, holding up the police sketch and the note, “If anyone here can recognize what the hell this dude has in his DNA, it’s him. Can you get a hold of him?”

“Already did. He won’t be available until Monday though,” Firth said with some disappointment, “He’ll be out of town for the weekend. Says he has a big conversation conference to attend or something.”

Grindylow frowned, “Damn.”

He didn’t allow himself to become discouraged, though. He looked at Effo and Firth.

“Is Khouri still here?” he asked.

Firth jerked his thumb towards the door. “Just got here half an hour ago.”

“Good,” Grindylow said, “Get her in here. I want to her take a look at this note. I don’t have a doubt who wrote this, but it never hurts to be too sure.”

* * *

Twyla sat at her dining room table, listening intently as Jane, seated across from her, gestured wildly with her hands as she recounted everything to the boogeyman about the conversation she had had with the ravens the day before yesterday- Twyla was highly puzzled over how the lilac-skinned ghoul had apparently managed to have a conversation with a bunch of birds, but chose to keep these questions to herself.

“...saying that it looked like a necklace, and it glowed bright blue,” Jane was in the middle of explaining, “I started wondering why it sounded so familiar, and then he said that they noticed the figure had no scent to it.

“And then it hit me: It sounded exactly like those hourglass charms you and Laura and Rochelle the rest of the ghouls wore when the whole incident with Spectra and the ghost school happened!” she exclaimed, “The ones you got when you lot messed with the boogie sand and turned yourselves into ghosts!”

She ran her hands through her hair, “It all makes perfect sense! The reason he has no scent is because when he’s a ghost, he has no solid form! Yet, at the same time, he’s able to shadow travel and attack Scarah and all them and not leave ectoplasm, because he’ll use the boogie sand to transform himself!”

Twyla glanced down at the table, stunned at what she was hearing. When she’d heard the doorbell ring just fifteen minutes earlier, she’d been on the phone with Howleen, trying to provide emotional comfort as Howleen filled her in about Clawd’s current condition.

“H-H-He’s in a coma now,” Howleen had said tearfully, “T-They say it will only be for a few days and t-then they’ll be able to bring him out of it, b-but with the poison, t-they want to make sure his body doesn’t keep stressing itself out. But he’s...he’s alive, Twyla, he’s alive!”

Twyla was soft and gentle with her, soothing her when she got overwhelmed and assuring her that Clawd was going to pull through with his recovery. She had just told Howleen to never hesitate to call her if there was any way Twyla could help and to keep her updated on Clawd when she had heard the doorbell ring.

Of all the people she knew, Jane being the one to be at the doorstep was not the immediate one that came to mind. She especially wasn’t prepared for Jane to having the look of a mad scientist all over her features as she started going on off on a wild tangent that she had just made a big discovery on the killer who was going around.

Yet, everything she said made perfect sense. As she thought it over, Twyla had a thought of wondering how nobody had caught onto it until now.

How did nobody ever take into account that whoever was the kidnapper could’ve been using magic or ancient charms or something of the like to turn themselves into some sort of artificial shapeshifter?

She gripped her chin in thought, her brows furrowed.

Jane watched her as she lowered her hands.

“...Unless there’s something I’m missing,” she added, slightly unsure as the boogeyman stayed silent.

Twyla shook her head, “No, it’s not that. It all adds up. I’m just thinking about who could possibly have access to that much boogie sand to be able to have done all this...”

Jane tilted her head, “Well, you _did _say that the hourglass charms were a means to communicate with each other in case something went wrong when entering someone’s dream. Couldn’t you just...you know, get in touch with each other and figure out who’s doing it?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Twyla countered, “Sending Morpheus messages via boogie sand only works when you and another person are already using it; you can’t just hope for a portal to open up based on what-ifs. Plus, it only works it dreams.”

She frowned and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms, “Also it wouldn’t explain the no-scent thing, either. There’s no way to truly just erase your natural smell. Unless someone is already a ghost naturally, then they would still carry a scent, even if they use ghost boogie sand. Boogeymen’s natural scents are very faint, but we still have them.”

She looked back down at the table and paused. Jane waited, seeing something flash in her eyes.

“Unless...” Twyla said, “They _were _already a ghost, and just decided to use….SON OF A BITCH!”

Jane nearly toppled her chair over as she threw herself backward, startled as Twyla suddenly slammed her hands against the table and shot to her feet; her chair made a harsh scraping sound that threatened to scratch the wooden floor. Dustin and Needles were resting under the table at their feet, both bolted up at the action.

“W-What?! What is it?!” she asked.

Twyla turned her gaze towards her. Her eyes were wide with realization.

“A few months ago, like just before the very first kids even went missing,” she began to explain, “Something happened at my house.”

“See, right before school started, my parents decided to fix our house up. It’s pretty old and was in need of a lot of repairs. So my parents moved furniture and stuff out of the rooms they were going to take a look at,” she continued, “While they were at it, they also decided to do some general cleaning out and pack up some stuff they were either going to put in storage or give away as donations.”

Jane stayed quiet. She nodded her head to indicate for the turquoise-haired ghoul to go on. Twyla continued.

“A few of the boxes that my dad had packed up contained several bottles of boogie sand,” she said, “He’d been wanting to move some down to his laboratory- samples that he thought were a bit unstable or were too fragile to keep around the house. And to get the house cleared out faster, my mom hired some movers to help transport the stuff they were giving away.

“Everything went according to plan and my parents were able to get the renovations done much sooner than possible. But, when we down to my dad’s lab and were helping him unpack the boogie sand he wanted to bring with him, my mom suddenly noticed something was off,” she concluded.

She watched as Jane’s eyes widened as she came to her own deduction as to what had happened. Twyla nodded in confirmation, even without a question being asked.

“One of the boxes was missing,” she answered, “At first, my mom thought one of us had just misplaced it, but my dad had specifically labeled them so that you could tell which ones were to remain separate from donations.”

Twyla ran a hand through her hair, still reeling over the revelation. “My dad contacted the movers, but they said they had never taken such a box. They had even counted out the inventory- they had exactly the number of boxes that were supposed to be donated and the ones to be tossed in the trash. They insisted they hadn’t touched anything that was labeled like the boogie sand, but the only answer my dad could come up with was that one of the movers had to have stolen it when nobody was looking.

“My dad was so pissed,” she added, “He tried to get them to tell him who was hired to come to our house, but most of the workers were apparently just temporary and most of them had already quit. The best the moving company could do was to pay us back some of the money for the job.”

Jane gasped in revelation. A hand flew to her mouth in shock.

“If a whole box of boogie sand went missing,” she said, filling in the gaps, “Then that means…!”

Twyla nodded. Her lips pursed together in a grim expression. “My dad said there were at least five bottles in that box. I never thought to ask what kinds were in it, but if the killer has been able to wield powers from multiple species...”

“And he has no scent that could tie him to any particular monster...” Jane added in.

“...Then he must be a ghost using the boogie sand to get those abilities!” Twyla finished, her voice going higher as it all clicked into place.

She pulled away from her seat and headed out of the dining room; Jane stood up and hurried after her as Twyla made a beeline for the door that led to the basement.

“Of course! Why didn’t anyone think of it before! Why didn’t _I _ever think of it before!” Twyla exclaimed as she turned on the light to the basement and led Jane down the staircase, “It explains everything! He has no scent because he’s not solid and therefore _can’t _carry a scent! The times when he _was _solid, like when he attacked Scarah and Billy, he must’ve used it to give himself a solid form.”

Jane looked around, taken aback by the vast size of the basement and its towering shelves that were filled with had to be hundreds of thousands of glass bottles. Twyla’s attention, however, was solely focused on the large slab of concrete in front of her that was her father’s workspace.

“And if Dad is still keeping a record of how many of each he makes...” she muttered to herself as she approached the slab, pushing aside scrolls and textbooks that were open to annotated parts of the human brain until her eyes landed upon a scrap of paper in the corner.

She grabbed it and skimmed it over; her heart surged as her suspicions were confirmed.

“Just like I thought,” she exclaimed as she turned around to face Jane, “The bottles missing all match up to the abilities they’ve claimed the killer can do: Ghost, boogeyman, werecat, and a bunch of other ones.”

She held the piece of paper out to Jane for her to see. Jane took it and read over the list, seeing the different names written out on it.

“No wonder why everything was so off,” Twyla said, “That’s why he also doesn’t leave any ectoplasm; he transforms using the Boogeyman sand to shadow jump, hence why he was able to nab Clawd and all them in such little time, and whenever he needs to extra stealthy he turns back into a ghost. He truly has made himself a living shadow...”

Her face became grim. “And a good one at that. The fact that he’s excelled at shadow travel without even being a natural boogeyman tells me he’s been planning this for a while; he knew exactly how he wanted to go about this whole thing.”

She thought back to the day that the movers came and tried to remember the faces of them, if anyone of them stuck out. She hadn’t been paying much attention to them, though, as she was more occupied with helping her mom and eventually had put in her earbuds to pass some time with some music.

Realizing that she couldn’t anything else about the movers besides their uniforms, she grit her teeth and let out a snarl of frustration.

“Fuck,” she exclaimed, “If only I could remember just _one _face, that would make it so much easier.”

“There...there has to be a _cost _to using the boogie sand, though, right?” Jane asked, “Especially with how frequently the killer seems to be switching it up? Like, there has to be something bad about that, doesn’t it?”

Twyla paused to think about it for a minute.

“...There is, actually,” she said, “Obviously, a person isn’t meant to be something other than their natural form for long. Boogie sand isn’t meant to be used for extended periods of times; it’s usage is supposed to be to take the form of someone’s particular fear when you enter dreams. Over time, if you remain in that form too long, your body might just start adapting to it.”

She frowned as she thought of something else.

“But depending on how long he’s spending in each form every night, it could take _months _for someone to start permanently showing changes,” she said, her fists clenching, “Something we don’t have.”

Jane’s shoulders dropped in defeat at the comment. With everything they had pieced together, she had started to feel a spark of hope that just maybe, they had a solid lead that she could pass onto her stepfather about how to truly catch the killer now.

Twyla perked her head up at her.

“You sure those ravens are going to come back?” she asked, “Or that they’ll even able to track you down when they supposedly see the guy again?”

Jane paused in her slight wallowing and straightened up, giving a curt nod.

“Ravens have a keen sense of smell,” she said, “It’s what makes them excellent scavengers whenever food is scarce.”

“Whenever that happens, call me,” Twyla said. She grabbed a spare piece of paper from the slab and a pen and quickly jotted down her phone number on it, before holding out the paper to Jane, “And then tell me whatever they’ve told you.”

“Um, okay,” Jane replied, taking the paper; she glanced at it, before she looked back at Twyla, “What’s the plan?”

“I’m going to call Spectra and the rests of the ghosts and tell them,” Twyla explained, “Wherever the ravens see him head, we’re going there.

“Wherever he’s spending his nights when he’s not terrorizing the town must be where he’s keeping the other missing kids,” she said, her face dark, “And we need to be prepared for he’s still around once we get there. No matter, though, we’re getting to the bottom of this whole charade once and for all."

* * *

On any other day, the grand halls and high ceilings of the American Museum for Monster History would’ve been something that Frankie would’ve loved to explore; each and every turn seemed to hold some other great artifact that she had never seen before, and she would’ve expected no less- the museum was cited as being having one of the most expansive and detailed collections of antiques relevant to cryptid history from all over the world.

That was not what she was here for today, though. Now, Frankie marched right on past the colorful displays and narratives, barely sparing them a second glance as she struggled to keep up with Lilith, the blonde power walking along head of her.

Visitors and tour guides shot them strange looks as the two girls hurried past them, noting the stony expression on Lilith’s face that made it clear she was not one in the mood for any tomfoolery at the moment. They quickly moved out of the way, not wanting to find out whatever had the human girl so riled up.

They made their way past the exhibits to the door that opened to the staircase; their shoes clacked against the concrete steps as they went down and sounded almost like gunshots as they echoed throughout the open levels of the stairs. Lilith then directed them to the third floor and shoved the door open, bringing them into a hallway that was much smaller and quieter than the rest of the museum, with the walls lined with pin boards that had various notices tacked up on them.

“Are you sure we should be here?” Frankie asked as they passed through a hall of office spaces; she could see museum staff at work through the large windows that made up the walls. The doors to these rooms were kept locked with keypads and card scanners.

“Oh yeah,” Lilith muttered, “He’s always in an office, whether at home or at his job. He never truly can stop working...”

She led them around another corner and made a beeline for the door to one office up ahead. A group of workers, who stood gathered in a semi-circle as they looked over a thing of documents in one man’s hands, all looked up at the sound of them coming forward.

“Um, excuse me ladies?” one woman wearing an ID badge called out to them, “You can’t be back here-”

Lilith passed by her and the other men with her without a second glance; Frankie shot them an apologetic look as she followed her, before turning her attention back forward.

The door up ahead was pulled shut. On the wall beside it was a placard that had **Van Hellscream, L. PhD**inscribed on it.

Lilith held her arm out and shoved the door open, bursting into the office without so much as a knock. Frankie stepped in beside her, only to quickly stop dead in her tracks as her eyes landed upon the person in front of them.

Inside the small office, Van Hellscream sat a large desk, bent over as he wrote something down on a piece of paper. He jumped slightly in his seat as the door flew back and banged against the wall and glanced up, startled by the noise.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his niece and Frankie Stein standing in front of him, the two of them staring at him with anger and wariness.

As he glanced between them, he settled back in his seat, his mouth turning down in a tight frown as his expression became one more serious.

“Lilith,” his gaze slid back to Frankie, “Miss Stein. What a surprise to see you both here.”

Frankie balled her fists as she stared at him with wariness, silently hoping that the anxiousness she was feeling in her chest wasn’t showing on her face.

Even with him being supposedly powerless and having Lilith there to back her up, she couldn’t help the sliver of fear that still struck her as she made eye contact with Van Hellscream’s familiar green eyes. At that moment, any courage she had felt was overshadowed by the memory of the terror she remembered feeling when he had trapped her, Bloodgood, and the other girls over the pit of Eldritrch beings, the threat of falling in and being swallowed up as his gargoyle servant sawed through the chains consuming her like an oversized coat.

Fortunately, Lilith was the first one to speak. She narrowed her eyes at her uncle.

“We need to speak to you about what’s going on in New Salem,” she said venomously, “About the missing kids and the murders.”

Van Hellscream cocked an eyebrow, before he raised his arms to rest his elbows on the table and lace his fingers.

“Oh?” he responded, “Let me guess: You think I have something to do with it.”

“Considering how you got out at the same time this started and your history, it’s a little hard not to see a pattern,” Lilith said with a bit of bite.

Frankie felt her own share of irritation as the older blonde just rolled his eyes, as if he was already tired of the conversation.

“Oh, Lily, do you think so lowly of me?” Van Hellscream replied, “Truly, I’m hurt. I would think you knew me better than that.”

“You were willing to go low when you came to my school and imprisoned my principal so you could try and ignite a race war,” Frankie replied.

A bristle of anger went through her at the hint of sarcasm in his voice. Van Hellscream lulled his head towards her and looked in her direction.

The hatred that burned in his eyes was as apparent to her as their bright emerald hue. She didn’t falter, however, as she gave him her own glare from her dual-colored eyes. Frankie lifted her head, starting to feel her confidence come back.

“That I did,” Van Hellscream finally said lowly, “And I suppose you think I must’ve found some way to get my hands on some sort of magical charm, since my niece has probably told you the Council has taken away anything that I could’ve used to harm your little friends? That I must still have some friends on the inside who could’ve assisted me on this and are keeping whatever I use to terrorize your little town and steal away your loved ones like a thief in the night in their own possessions to keep me from being exposed?

“I suppose you probably also think that I somehow managed to construct some sort of shelter specifically meant to imprison monsters and keep other monsters from finding them so that way I can keep them for my own usage of inflicting some ungodly means of torture upon them,” he continued, a hint of mockery in his voice.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Have I covered everything, or is there something else I’m missing?”

Frankie had to keep from gritting her teeth. She never thought herself to have a hateful bone in her body, but with the smug way he was talking to her and acting like he was almost enjoying her paranoia about him, she all but detested him.

When she replied, her voice was tight with barely concealed loathing, “You’re the expert, you’re clever, you know how to find a way. With what you’ve done, you made it clear you know how to get what you want, one way or the other.”

The corner of Van Hellscream’s mouth tilted upward in a smirk, as if bemused by her answer, much to her irritation.

“Paranoid, are we?” he asked, “How ironic, the little simulacrum is the one afraid that the big bad human is doing harm to her loved ones.”

He closed his eyes and shrugged dismissively. “I can’t suppose I can fault you too much for that, though,” he admitted, “It’s reasonable you’d be on your guard; just a bit of common sense, too.

“Sorry to disappoint you, however, but I can say that I’m _not _the one who’s been giving you and your people the scare of your unlives,” he commented.

He gestured to the paperwork on his desk. “I’ve been busy with work for these last few months- it’s amazing, the amount of stuff this place gets that has be sorted from true antiques from junk. When I’m not here, I’ve been out of town for conferences. So no, I am _not _your murderer.”

“How do we trust you?” Frankie countered, “You could be using a charm to teleport from wherever you are, o-or create some sort of duplicate or doppelganger to better your alibi.”

Van Hellscream let out a gruff chuckle. The long blonde hairs of his beard shuffled with the movement. “You seem determined to convince yourself that I am somehow behind it. Well, if you girls must know, I’ve already been visited by the police who were suspicious of the same thing. Several times, in fact.”

He pulled out a pad of paper from under a few old textbooks and a pen from his pencil holder. He bent over and started writing something down on the paper.

“And each time that they came to my house, I have testimonials from your parents and my coworkers and plenty of evidence showing that not only was I nowhere near Salem whenever a new student went missing,” he explained, “But no less than three times me and my house were put under an enchantment to look for signs of any usage of magic or technology that would’ve enabled me to do it. Each time I have come out perfectly clean.”

He pulled back and ripped out the page from his pad, looking up at Frankie to hold it out to her.

“If you don’t believe me, feel free to call the leading investigator,” he recommended, “They could vouch for me that everything I’ve told you is the truth.”

Frankie stared at him sternly as she cautiously reached out and took the paper from him, like if she moved too quickly, he’d grab hold of her arm and rip it right off the stitches. She looked down at the number written on it; displayed was the familiar number of the leading chief investigator for her part of town that she’d seen on the news a couple of times.

“Even if you’re not directly responsible, Uncle,” Lilith spoke up, “How can we trust that you’re not _somehow _involved? Like you’re not informing someone of where they can get their hands on such things or informing them of specific weaknesses from monsters?”

“Aw, again with the conspiracy theories!” Van Hellscream exclaimed, “I swear, Lily, I’m starting to think next you’re going to ask me if this whole reality’s been a simulation this entire time.”

He settled back in his chair, “But, no matter, if you trust me or not, I can say with a clear conscience that I’ve not been in connection with anyone for any purpose of bringing harm to your dear monster friends. Partly because I literally have _no _connections- all my fellow former hunters have since disowned me; hell, I was just barely able to get this job.”

His face suddenly went dark. His eyes narrowed into thin black slits as his expression became one of pure hatred.

“And partly because I have no desire to ever step foot in that disgusting little _zoo _of freaks you call a town,” he spat, glaring at Frankie, “After having a whole year of my life taken away to be their headless woman’s personal stone figure, I think I’d be better off not having to filthy myself being around those godforsaken savages one minute longer.”

Frankie’s eyes lit up with fury. “How dare you!” she exclaimed, “How dare you! After everything you’ve done-”

“You’d be better off looking at your little friend Draculaura’s father,” Van Hellscream said, “Or _precious _little boyfriend’s family. God knows just how much bloodlust they’ve had building up in them with the amount of body counts they built up.

“Hell, take any random citizen off the street of New Salem, and they’re more likely to be the killer than me,” he commented with an arrogant scoff.

The mention of Jackson and Holt boiled Frankie’s blood. Little sparks started dancing off her bolts as the spike in her blood pressure sent waves of electricity through her body. She balled her fists and stared down at the former administrator with a look of resentment that looked strange on her normally soft features.

“Leave them out of this,” she snapped, “You have no right to bring up my friends- my friends who are in pain, who are laying awake at night worried because the people we love and care for are missing and we have no clue where they are- when you of all people have shown the greatest reasons for not being trusted!”

“Didn’t your werewolf friend get kidnapped by a French designer who wanted to use her for slave labor and steal her designs?” Van Hellscream asked, ignoring her statement; he tilted his head at her like he was curious about something, “I could’ve sworn that I read somewhere that earlier this year, a shadow genie tried to take over your school.

“But no,” he said venomously, “It couldn’t _possibly _be one of your dear ‘precious’ monsters, now could it? It _has _to be one of us filthy humans, right? Even though your people have been leaving behind a trail of death and destruction ever since they first roamed the earth.”

The air became still, the tension so thick it could be cut with a butcher’s knife. Frankie clenched her jaw as he continued to throw his insults. Her hands were shaking with the force at which she balled her fists; her palms ached from where her nails dug into them.

Never before had she ever thought of bringing violence or harm to another person, no matter how terrible they may have been or whatever acts of wrongdoing they had committed.

Right now, though, as she stood face to face with the man that had hurt her principal, manipulated her friends and put her school in danger, him having an arrogant glint in his eye as he insulted her species and talked of them like they were beneath him, Frankie had the strongest urge she ever felt to shock Van Hellscream until his hair was on fire.

Van Hellscream only seemed to take pleasure in riling her up, though, as he smiled darkly, practically able to feel the heat of her anger.

“There it is,” he said lowly, “It’s always there. You and your little friends can try and pretend that you don’t have it in you, but I know better. It’s there in all of you. That want for violence.”

Before Frankie could say anything else- by this point, she was tempted to leap right over the desk if only just to scream in the blonde man’s face, any other workers around be damned- Lilith quickly got in front of her. Her burgundy-painted lips were pulled down into a tight frown.

“That is _enough_, Uncle,” she scolded, “We came here to get some answers, not to have you start off on another one of your humans-are-superior spiels.”

Her glare was returned with a look of irritation from her uncle, but if he had another smartass remark to give in response to her statement, Van Hellscream kept it to himself. Instead, he made a gesture with his hands.

“I’ve given you answers,” he said, “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m telling the truth. I’m involved in anything going on in New Salem. Hire a PI or something to tap my phones or hack my e-mail if you think I’m lying, but that’s all I have to say. Do with that what you will.”

Lilith gave a curt nod, “So you have. Sorry to bother you, Uncle.”

She turned on her heel and grabbed Frankie’s arm to lead her out of the office, neither of them sparing Van Hellscream another glance. Frankie was stiff as a board as Lilith guided her, still ready to burst at the seams over the volatile exchange the two of them had had; she was so mad she was trembling.

Right as they were about to walk out through the doorway, however, Van Hellscream called out to them.

“The clues may be a little more obvious than you think,” he said.

Frankie stopped. Lilith turned to her and tugged at her arm.

“Come on, Frankie, he’s just trying to get to you,” she advised. Frankie, however, turned away from her and looked over her shoulder, casting the monster hunter a doubtful look.

Van Hellscream’s face was neutral. He gestured with his hand, “That’s all I’m saying. Sometimes you just got to keep an eye on the little things; the answer is often in plain sight.”

Frankie stared at him a little longer, unsure of what to make of the cryptic statement. Van Hellscream stared back, raising an eyebrow.

Confused, Frankie remained silent as she allowed Lilith to pull her away and the two of them made their way out of the museum.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Lilith apologized as they got back to the main floor of the museum, “I knew my uncle was still a heavy-hitting bigot, but even then, I thought he’d at least retain a bit of maturity."

“It’s fine,” Frankie said, staring down at the floor distractedly, “But what he said...”

She trailed off, her attention entirely focused on the monster hunter’s statement.

It should’ve been easy to write off- for all she knew, the arrogant blonde was just talking out his ass and meant the comment was one final way to yank her chain- but for some reason, the sentence stuck out in her mind, like deep down she somehow knew there was something more to it.

As much as she hated it, there was also a strange part of her that thought he could be right.

Lilith glanced at her out the corner of her eye, noting the green ghoul’s concentrated expression.

“He could be just trying to mess with you,” she insisted, “With the chip on his shoulder, he probably just wants to screw around further.”

“I know,” Frankie replied.

But she couldn’t brush it off. She couldn’t put her finger on it at the moment, but she had the strangest sensation that she was about to see his meaning really soon.

Her phone suddenly rang. She pulled it out to see that Clawdeen was calling her.

"Hello?" Frankie answered, "...Really?! When?!...How long?!...Don't worry, I'll be right there."

Lilith turned to her, curious of the conversation. Frankie hung up and gave her a pleading look.

"That was Clawdeen," she explained, "She said Clawd...Clawd's been found. They have him at the hospital right now. She really wants me-"

Lilith held up her hand, preventing her from speaking any further.

"I'll drive you," she said curtly.

The two of them quickened their pace as they made their way to the exit of the museum, determined to get to Lilith's car as soon as possible.

* * *

The masked man stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, staring at his reflection. He had removed his costume, allowing him to get a good look at the state of his body.

He looked down at his arm. On the back of his forearm, a large patch of his skin was starting to discolor, the normally fair tones now a deep jet black in color. A similar patch appeared on his right hand, where his fingers faded to gun-metal grey as if he had dipped them in a pile of ashes. His fingers were also misshapen- where the grey was, they were long and gangly, the jagged nails jutting out from their beds like stiletto knives.

The masked man looked down at the rest of his body. He found another black patch on his chest, as well as one that was starting to grow from the top of his knee down to his Achilles tendon.

“Dammit,” he muttered, realizing what he was observing. He flexed the blackened hand; his gnarled fingers moved like the legs of a spider. Compared to his meaty pinkie and thumb, they looked like they’d been cut off and replaced with someone else’s.

He took his gaze away from his hands to look down at the sink. Resting near the faucet was the bottle of brown sand he used frequently.

The masked man grabbed it and unscrewed the cork. He dumped out the sand onto the palm of his hand and placed the bottle down. Looking back in the mirror, he threw it on himself; as always, he was briefly enveloped by a pink cloud, before the wisps quickly dissipated in the air.

He raised his arm again. The black patch was slowly shrinking, leaving his skin its regular light spotted color. His fingers and nails shortened, before they plumped up like they were being filled with water.

Not good. The sand’s effects were starting to wear off- his transformations were taking longer. A sign that he was using it too frequently, too long. If he wasn’t careful, he was risking staying permanently trapped in one form, then he would completely expose himself.

Sighing, the masked man sealed the bottle again and started dressing himself. Oh, well, he thought, he supposed this day was coming for a while. He knew that when he got a hold of the sand, that there was always the chance that there were going to be side effects.

In truth, he wasn’t necessarily _against _being exposed. He’d never really had a set plan from the beginning when he decided to go forth his abilities- he just wanted to see if he _could _do it, and how long he could get away with it. He always knew there was a chance he’d mess up and they would catch onto him- he was clever, but not that clever. Still, the fact that he’d managed to go _this long _without even so much as a police visit was a bit surprising; either he was smarter than he gave himself credit for, or the police in this town were really incompetent.

Maybe that was the biggest reason as to why he kept doing it- the thrill of the hunt. The test of finding a new target, of being able to get ahold of them without risking his identity being made known, of keeping them all to himself as their mothers cried and their investigators went around in circles trying to make sense of impossible clues. He became drunk on the feeling of power as his personal empire grew and he was able to do with his subjects as he pleased, all the while on the outside, nobody suspected a thing. To know that he was able to pull it all off and disappear like he was never even there- it was almost addicting, the amount of fun it caused him.

It seemed now his days were numbered, though; if he kept on transforming left and white, it’d be only a matter of time before he became stuck in one form or the boogie sand became completely useless to him, then he’d be left without his major trump cards the next time he went to hunt.

Of course, he could always try to hunt without relying on the boogie sand, but where was the fun in that?

“Not like it means anything for much,” he muttered to himself as he finished dressing, “Until the day where they hunt me down and put me in the chair, there’s nothing they can do to stop me.”

It didn’t matter to him, either way. Not really. He had had his fun; he made his mark. Whether the day he was finally caught came tomorrow or not for another hundred years, he knew that he wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon. Not by his victims or their families or whoever else had managed to survive his hand- that was, if he allowed any of them to live.

Until then, he would continue to have his fun. Continue to teach these sorry beasts what they had allowed themselves to be turned into all for “civilization” even if it meant going through every student at Monster High.

And until they put a bullet in his head, he would gladly rip anyone who stood in his way to pieces, just like he did the fire elemental and the banshee.


	17. Chapter 16: Nail in the Coffin

Draculaura was really starting to hate the hospital.

It made her really start to wonder how people like the Steins could stand coming in here day in and day out. The sterile smell of disinfectant and other chemicals that made your head spin, the constant looks of despair, anxiety, or outright numbness from staff and patients and even people in the waiting room; the ever lingering feeling of death in the atmosphere that you never knew if it was coming from way down in the morgue below or in the room right next to you as you passed. The more time she spent here, it was like the more the veil was lifted and she could see it for the truly depressing atmosphere it was.

But still, she came, because her friends were here, and they needed her.

She nodded at the staff members who were talking with the secretary at the front desk as she passed by and looked ahead, recounting the familiar path to Silvi’s room. She shifted her arms to better grip the bouquet of flowers she held. The thorns of one had pierced through the plastic wrap and poked into her shoulder uncomfortably, but Laura barely noticed. She was too preoccupied with her thoughts of where she was going to go after visiting Silvi to notice.

Inside Silvi’s room, her and Ari were bent over the table used for meals, a textbook and notebook open between them. Ari was pointing to something with the end of her pencil as she explained something about evolution and natural selection.

“...so in the biological sense, fitness has nothing to do with physical form or actual health,” Ari was saying as Laura walked in, “It actually means how successful you are at having offspring, and the success rate at which they survive to producing offspring.”

Laura smiled and rapped gently on the door frame to announce her presence. The ghouls glanced up; Silvi’s eyes widened at the sight of the flowers in Laura’s hands and she beamed.

“Are those fur me?” she asked excitedly.

Laura smiled and held them out, allowing her to better see the mix of light blue and vivid pink petals. “Hydrangeas and azaleas,” she said, “I thought you might want a bit of color to cheer up the atmosphere around here.”

Silvi nodded, “Of course, thank ye! Ye can pit them over here on the table.”

She turned and pointed to the nightstand beside her. Ari got up from her seat to allow room as Laura walked over and took the flowers out of the wrapping. On the table, a small glass vase sat with a handful of flowers already in it, though these ones were obviously starting to wilt.

“Oh, and ye even got them in me favorite colors!” Silvi exclaimed, “Oh, Lala, ye so lovely!”

Laura replied, “Oh, hush, I’m just doing my duty as a friend.”

“Oh,” Ari joked, “So when she brings you flowers, it’s her being a friend, but when _I _do, I’m ‘overcompensating’ for our relationship?”

“That’s coz ye’ve bin bringin’ me a new booquit every day ‘at ye visit, ye cheeky lass!” Silvi scolded.

She turned to Laura, “Every day when she comes over, it’s roses or daisies or somethin’ else, all by the dozen. By the end of the first three days I was here, ye could’ve sworn I hud a dryad as a roommate up in here!”

Laura giggled at her expression of disbelief. Ari frowned at her ghoulfriend and stuck her tongue out, but she quickly joined in on chuckling with the vampire. She leaned in as Draculaura reached out and to hug her with one arm, before taking the wilted flowers out of the vase to allow Laura to replace them with the ones she brought.

“How are you doing?” Laura asked as she reached down to hug Silvi.

Silvi replied, “Well, I’m don’t feel loch I’m in the way to pass it every fife minutes anymore. Doctor says mah iron and nutrient levels are almost back tae normal, and me cuts are healing nicely.”

She did look much better than the last two weeks, Laura noted. She’d obviously put back on some of the weight she lost so her cheeks had lost most of the sunken in look they had, and her fur and hair was looking much healthier.

“Ay course,” Silvi added with a sigh, “That’s nae countin’ all the scars he says I’ll have and the nightmares keeping me up half the night, now.”

Laura and Ari looked at her; she had her gaze directed downward, a forlorn look in her eyes. Ari glanced up at Laura, torn. Laura looked equally helpless in what to say. However, Silvi quickly brightened up and smiled.

“A don’t want tae gab abit those things reight noo, though,” she said, brushing off the melancholy, “Are ye plannin’ on stayin’, Laura? Ari’s just been helpin’ catch me up tae me schoolwork.”

“I can’t,” Laura said, “I actually came to see Clawd today. I thought I’d stop by, though, and say hello.”

“That’s right! I think I remember hearing Clawdeen say something when I passed her in the hall the other day,” Ari exclaimed, “They’re supposed to wake him up soon, aren’t they?”

Laura nodded, “He just woke up last night. His mom says he was still pretty out of it, but this morning he’s been more responsive.”

Silvi closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, “That’s a relief. Tell him I’ve bin keepin’ him in me thoughts, right?”

“I will,” Laura replied.

She gave them another hug and bid them goodbye, before she turned and left the room. Behind her, she could hear them resuming their science lesson. As she stepped out, a nurse passed her, pushing a patient in a wheelchair in front of him. He smiled and gave her a small nod of greeting; the old man in the chair told her good morning. Laura smiled back and them and waved and turned to the left.

Her smile quickly faded as she walked down the hallway to head towards the elevators.

It was true, what she said, that the doctors had finally brought Clawd out of his coma and that so far, he didn’t seem to have any neurological damage from the poison that they’d found in his system. A borderline miracle, as Dr. Stein had put it, with how high the wolfsbane and silver content had been. Combined with him being in the obvious stages of starvation and the startling amount of blood he’d lost, the fact that he was even still alive was a blessing in and of itself.

What she _hadn’t _told them was how horrible it had been to see the state Clawd had been in when she, along with the rest of the Wolf family, had finally been allowed to go see him.

In the thousand-plus years she’d been on this Earth, Laura had bared witness to numerous horrific and unspeakable experiences. None of those, though, even came close to the feeling of absolute sorrow that pierced her chest like a stake at the sight of her beloved lying in a hospital bed hooked up to wires and tubes, barely hanging onto life…

_ ( Three days ago…) _

“_We had to administer a total of two hundred stitches over his body,” Viktor explained as he stood behind Clawrk and Harriet, “Asides from the lacerations, he has second degree burns on his lower back, which we cleaned and treated with antibiotic cream, and several transverse fractures in the first and second metatarsals of his left foot as well as his medial malleolus.” _

_ The Wolf family and Draculaura barely acknowledged him, their eyes solely focused on Clawd as they all gathered in a circle around him, staring down at him as he lay still in the hospital bed. They all held hands, like they were all about to engage in a group prayer. _

_ Draculaura swallowed hard as she observed her love’s face. Clawd’s eyes were closed, and he could’ve looked almost peaceful, if it hadn’t been for the gaudy tube of the ventilator that was sticking out of his mout and the cannula that ran across his upper lip and into both his nostrils. Several electrodes stuck out of his scalp in order to monitor his brain activities. A large patch of gauze covered his right cheek, shielding them from whatever gory mess lay underneath. His lips had a sickly grey tinge to them. _

_ The sight of it looked so wrong. Laura felt sick; to think, Clawd wasn’t even breathing on his own right now, it was a machine that was doing it for him. He was gone from them at the moment, lost in his head as his obviously weak and broken body tried to fight whatever toxins now ran through his blood, poisoning him and killing him from the inside out. _

_ There was also the chance he’d never come out of this coma alive. _

_ Laura swore she could feel her heart literally crack in half. It took an enormous amount of strength she didn’t even know she possessed to not allow her knees to give out and wail on the floor like a banshee. _

“_A-A-And the wolfsbane and silver and all that?” she heard Harriet ask Viktor, “H-How is that supposed to be dealt with? You’re not just going to let it all run through, right?” _

“_That’s the reason we induced him,” Viktor said gently, “By slowing his brain function, we can reduce any swelling that may occur in the brain and allow his body to recover without any additional stress. We’re also going to administer activated charcoal every two to four hours to flush the rest of the wolfsbane and silver from his system and prevent them from being absorbed into the rest of his body.” _

_ Harriet and Clawrk nodded numbly, not really looking like they were really processing what he was telling them. Harriet reached out to gently cup Clawd’s cheek, mindful of the injury there. She lightly traced along her cheekbone with her thumb, before she bent down to give him a kiss on the temple. _

_ Across from the ghouls, Howleen sniffled and looked like she was trying not to cry as she closed her eyes and balled her fists. Next to her, Nino did actually cry, his shoulders bouncing up and down as he dug his chin into his collarbone. The triplets looked all on the verge of doing so, though Rocks had already allowed the tears to stream down his face silently. _

_ Draculaura bit her lip, fighting against her own te ars. She had gotten little sleep over the last few months, her nights spent with her lying awake in bed, agonizing over whatever possible fate could’ve befell Clawd and her friends, with what little slumber she got being plagued by nightmares of the worst possible outcome coming to be true. _

_ Now, Clawd was alive but at death’s door, and there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t suddenly make a sharp decline and meet the same tragic fate as Gil and the others had. _

_ Silently, she reached out and gently gripped his pinkie and ring fingers of his right hand, being careful to not jostle the IV needle that had been inserted into the back there. His fingers felt stiff and cold. _

‘_Please don’t leave us,’ she pleaded to him mentally, ‘Don’t leave me. I can’t go on without you.’_

_ They all continued to stand there, watching over the slumbering wolf, terrified for the bleak outlook of his fate and his progress… _

Laura closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to shake off the memory. The last few days had gone by agonizingly slow; it had only been three, but each felt like a hundred years. She’d come by every day after school, sitting by Clawd’s bedside, holding his hand and whispering to him assurances that she loved him and that she couldn’t wait for him to wake up. It was childish, but there was a part of her that hoped that he could hear her and that it could help bring him back to them.

Luckily, though, Clawd’s condition, though critical, remained stable over those few days and Frankie’s dad had said he’d showed no other signs of organ damage or sudden drops in blood pressure. Then, last night, Clawdeen had called her to tell her that her parents had gone to the hospital and that they had finally woken him up.

He was alive. He was aware and was reacting to things and was able to talk. He was initially really groggy, but he was able to respond when Viktor requested him to move his toes and his fingers and respond to his question.

He was alive. Her love was alive.

Had her heart still been beating, Laura knew she would’ve felt it beat wildly in her chest like a drum as her despondency became anxious excitement. Clawd was alive and was back where he belonged; it was all she could ask for that her love be back in her arms.

She took the elevator to the top floor of the hospital and stepped out. She mumbled the room number to herself as she tried to follow the signs that led her in the right direction.

“Five-B, Five-C, Five-D...” she said as her eyes darted between the plaques outside the room. Finally, down the hall on the left, she found the number she was looking for. She picked up the pace, unable to contain herself; she probably looked a little bit crazy as she speed-walked, with her arms going back and forth against her sides like she was a toy robot, but whatever strange looks she got she paid no mind.

Right as she reached the doorway, Rocks suddenly stepped out and turned towards her, causing the two of them to bump into one another. They both stumbled back with an “oof!” and glanced at one another in surprise.

Rocks straightened up as he recognized the vampire, “Oh, s-sorry about that, Lala. Didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” Draculaura said, smoothing her hair, “I should’ve been more careful. I was...kind of in a rush to come here.”

She looked over his shoulder into the room. “How’s he been?”

Rocks turned to look in the same direction. He let out a heavy sigh, “Well, he’s talking. He hasn’t been convulsing or doing any of that stuff that would show something’s wrong.”

He turned to her and gave her a small half-smile, “He’s been asking about food. Doc says he can only eat small things for now, though, since he’s got a feeding tube in and his stomach needs time to readjust to handling large amounts of food again.”

Something flickered in his eyes and the smile disappeared off his features. A sad frown replaced it.

“He also...remembers everything,” he muttered, “About his captivity. He’s not...coping with it well.”

His brows furrowed together as he seemed to think about it. Laura didn’t miss the way his posture suddenly went rigid, with his hands balling into fists at his sides. She took a step closer to him and patted him on the arm.

“Let me go talk to him,” she said softly, “Is anyone else here?”

Rocks nodded, “Just our mom and Clawdeen. There was an emergency at one of the sites Dad’s crew is working on and he had to get called in. Everyone else headed to the cafeteria to get something to eat; I didn’t really have much of an appetite then. I was just going to get a candy bar.”

Laura nodded, before she said, “You should join them. If you haven’t eaten anything yet, you’ll only hurt your body.”

Rocks nodded, though there was a spaced out look in his eyes that made it seem like he wasn’t really paying attention to what she said. Laura gave him another pat on the arm and walked passed him.

“Hey, Laura?” he called out as she went to push the door open.

Draculaura turned, her brows raised in curiosity. Rocks stood there with his hands in his pockets; he looked down at his toes, like he was a bit sheepish at what he was about to say.

“T-T-Thanks,” he said, finally meeting her eyes, “For...for always being there for us.”

That earned him a large, warm smile from the vampire. Laura turned on her heel and headed away from the door for a moment to walk towards him, her arms outstretched. Rocks accepted her hug and embraced her back. Neither said a word as they drew comfort from the embrace, before they departed. Laura waited around for a minute as she watched Rocks walk slowly down the hall with his head lowered, before she took a deep breath and finally walked into the room.

Harriet and Clawdeen were sitting by Clawd’s beside near the window. Harriet sat with her legs crossed in the more comfortable looking chair that sat near the corner right by the nightstand, whereas Clawdeen had hers pulled up under her as she lounged in one of the plastic ones against the wall.

Laura entered and glanced over at Clawd. A small feeling of relief came over her at the sight of him resting peacefully in the bed; it was comforting, to see him unhooked from all the machines that had crowded around his bed prior to today. He had his hand up on his chest, and it lightly rose and lowered with his steady breathing.

Clawdeen paused in talking to her mom as she heard Laura come in. She smiled and nodded at the vampire.

“Hey,” she said, “You made it.”

“Yeah,” Laura replied, “Sorry I was a bit late. Traffic’s gotten really bad near the intersection to the grocery store.

She slid her gaze over to Clawd. She briefly glanced at Harriet; with a nod of confirmation from the werewolf, she slowly walked over to his bed and put her hands on the rails, her gaze focused on the peaceful expression on his face. There was a bit more color in his face now and she could hear the soft sounds of his breathing. It was soothing to her.

His nose suddenly twitched, like it did whenever he had smelled something strange, before he began to shift. Slowly, she saw him open his eyes.

Clawd squinted and rolled his head so that the back was directly against his pillow. He looked up at the ceiling for a a few seconds, before he turned towards her. Laura smiled as she saw a flicker of recognition flash in those glossy gold irises.

“D...D-Draculaura?” Clawd said with some raspiness, “I-I..Is that you?”

Laura felt her eyes grow wet. Her smile grew bigger as she nodded and grabbed his hand and gave it a loving squeeze.

“I’m here,” she said happily, “I’m here, my love.”

Harriet stood up from her chair and approached Clawd’s other side. She bent down and reached to stroke his cheek.

“How are you feeling right now, sweetie?” she asked.

Clawd turned to press against against her palm, its warm feeling and the coconut scent of her hand lotion soothing to him. He gave her a tired smile as he looked up at her.

“Fine,” he answered, nuzzling against her palm. Harriet smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. Clawd’s arm slid around her back as she pulled him against her chest in a hug; she could hear him inhale her scent, as if he needed t double check to make sure she was there.

As she straightened back up, she adjusted her shirt and looked at Draculaura.

“We’ll give you two a minute alone,” she said, gesturing to the door, “Call me if you need anything.”

Clawdeen got up from her own seat and went to stand beside her. She looked down at Clawd. “Do you need anything, bro?”

Clawd shook his head. Clawdeen then looked to Laura and gave her a small touch on the arm, before she started for the door. Harriet started after her; as she reached the door, she turned and held onto the doorframe.

“If anything happens, press the call button,” she told Laura, before she stepped out and pushed the door shut, leaving the two teens alone in the room.

They both stared at it for a few minutes, silent. Draculaura then turned back to Clawd, looking down at him through her thick eyelashes. Clawd stared back up at her.

A beat passed between them, before Laura lunged for him. She tried to be mindful of his injuries as she put her knee up on the bed and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She felt his arms come up and cross over her back, holding her tightly to his chest. Draculaura buried her nose into his shoulder, now allowing the tears to flow freely down her cheeks, before she put her hand against his injured cheek and leaned into press her lips to his.

Clawd kissed her back like he was a man in need of oxygen. They broke apart, only to come together again, before Laura broke it off and showered his cheeks, nose, and forehead in small kisses. She stopped when she pressed a hand against his shoulder to steady herself, only to hear him let out a small hiss of pain.

“Sorry,” she said, looking down into his eyes, “Are you hurting anywhere?”

“No, i-it just hurts there when you put pressure on it,” Clawd said, wincing as she took her hand off the area.

He looked up at her after she moved her hand; he had his arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her pressed slightly against his chest. Laura smiled as he pushed himself up to kiss her nose.

“I was so scared,” he confessed, leaning back into his pillow; he reached up to caress her cheek with his knuckles, “When I alone and I thought it was really over...I thought of you and the family. All I could think of was how much I wished I could see you all just one last time, even if it was just for a second...”

His voice became a croak, thick with emotion. He stopped, and his lip began to quiver as he stared into her eyes. He looked like he was about to cry. Draculaura cupped his cheek, but he wouldn’t look at her.

He looked over her shoulder to stare at his foot, which was now in a cast and propped up in a pulley on the ceiling. His gaze became more troubled as he stared at it, something akin to shame filling his eyes.

“When I was there,” Clawd began, “He said...he said that it was a test. T-To see how much we let ourselves be ‘tamed’ by the humans. To see i-if I still had that ‘instinct’ to fight back in the end, w-w-when things get super bad. Everything he did he said was fucking _test...” _

He swallowed like he had a rock in his throat. His brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“He said I...I failed these tests,” he confessed heavily, “H-He said I was a coward, t-that I was just man’s pathetic dog. For not fighting him more, for not t-trying harder to fight him. But I...”

His eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t fight him,” he said, his voice cracking, “I-I-It hurt too much. I-I...I-I-I tried to, but I _couldn’t, _Laura, I-I couldn’t, it hurt so much, and I-I-I was so scared, I...”

Clawd couldn’t continue. He cut himself off with a harsh sob filled with so much devastation it pierced Draculaura like an arrow. He pulled away from her and closed his eyes; he covered his face from her with his hand as he began sobbing.

“Oh, Clawd...” Draculaura said, “No...no come here, _draga, _do not hide yourself from me...”

She climbed onto the bed so that she lay beside him and pulled him into her arms, holding his head against her chest as Clawd wept against her sweater. His claws dug into the back of her coat. Draculaura kissed his temple and tried to soothe him, with one hand gently stroking his hair.

“I was so scared,” Clawd confessed in between his cries, “I-I couldn’t fight him. It hurt so badly, I-I couldn’t fight him, I just c-couldn’t a-a-a-and he wouldn’t stop...t-t-the pain, h-he wouldn’t stop...”

“Shhhh,” Draculaura said, “It’s okay, _draga, _I’m here. It’s all over now, you’re safe...”

Clawd looked up at her, his eyes puffy and red from crying. It broke her heart to see the amount of fear present in them.

“Y-You don’t think I’m weak, d-d-do you?” he asked, “P-Please don’t hate for being weak...”

Draculaura felt her eyes widen at the sentence. Her cheeks became wet as tears spilled over from her lids. It was so heartbreaking, the look in Clawd’s eyes and the sheer terror at the thought that she would reject them.

She put her hands on his cheeks and wiped his tears away with her thumbs. She looked him straight in the eye.

“I could never, _ever _hate you,” she said, “You’re one of the strongest, most loving, most caring men I’ve ever known, and I love you to the ends of the universe and back.”

Clawd stared at her, like he didn’t know whether or not to believe her. He bit his lip and pulled her into another hug.

“I love you,” he said tearfully.

Draculaura turned to kiss the side of his head. She replied, “I love you so much. My love, my unlife...”

They lay there for a little while on their sides as she continued to try and comfort the fragile werewolf. Clawd’s weeping soon quieted down to small hiccups; he took deep breaths and inhaled her scent, the traces of her cherry blossom body wash and strawberries and scream shampoo helping to keep him grounded and relaxed. He smiled as he also caught a hint of the vanilla and lavender body spray he had bought for her last Christmas.

Laura gently stroked the back of his scalp, smoothing the hair there absentmindedly. She looked up to look out his window; it was cloudy out, the sky a dreary shade of grey. Off in the distance, she could see dark patches near the horizon that indicated it would rain later on. It was perfect weather to match her mood.

Out of everyone who had gone missing, Silvi and Clawd were the only ones confirmed alive, she thought. Everyone else was either dead or still missing.

Just how much longer would this last, she thought in frustration, how much longer did the sick bastard who was responsible for all this intend for them to be his personal pawns?

She had told Clawd it was all over.

She could only pray that her words would turn out to be true, because she couldn’t take anymore heartache and fear.

* * *

_(Later that evening...)_

“...so that must mean whenever he wants to go for multiple victims in a night or cover large distances without getting caught, he transforms into a boogeyman, and whenever he needs to be more quiet or he just needs to throw someone off his trail, he turns into a ghost,” Twyla explained, looking out among the group for any possible questions.

In front of her, all of her ghost friends took up the sofas and couches in her living room. Vandala sat in the lounge chair, while Sirena lay on top, her tail gently swishing back and forth like she was lying in the surf. Kiyomi, Johnny, and Operetta all huddled together on the sofa. Porter floated slightly off the ground as he sat cross legged at Kiyomi’s feet.

To her right, near the family computer, Spectra and InvisiBilly had taken up the loveseat near the wall. A thick, bright red scar now stood out against the grey complexion on Billy’s left cheek that spanned from his cheekbone all the way to just under his earlobe- a grim reminder of his encounter with the fiend in question who Twyla was currently talking about.

“Hooowee, talk about fittin’ the puzzle pieces together,” Operetta finally commented, rubbing her chin in thought, “And yer sure that this guy’s a natural ghost?”

“I don’t know for sure, but there’s very few monster species that exist without a scent,” Twyla said, “For solids, it still remains even if they use boogie sand like me and the ghouls did when the whole commotion with Haunted High went down. So unless he’s someone who’s magically managed to brew a no-scent potion, it’s got to be his natural form.”

She put her hands on her hips and looked towards Billy. “What do you think? Does that sound familiar to anything you saw the night of the attack?”

Billy furrowed his brows in thought and rubbed the back of his beanie. “I...think so,” he answered, “I definitely remember Heath grabbing onto something blue around the guy’s neck and Scarah’s rock going right through him like he wasn’t even there.

“He was also able to turn solid, briefly, though,” he added with a frown, “He didn’t magically transform or bring out any boogie sand, he just changed phases like water turning to ice. That was how he managed to take out Scarah and get Heath off his back.”

“That could be due to the type of ghost he’s turning into, though, right?” Porter suggested, “I mean, obviously we’re all different classes. Maybe he got his hands on the kind that allows you to better materialize in the physical plain, like how Ari can.”

Sirena raised a hand, “He could’ve also mixed up the boogie sand, too, get the best of both worlds to be someone like me, so he didn’t always have to rely on the boogeyman sand to grab stuff and whatnot.”

Twyla nodded in affirmation that either possibility was likely.

Johnny gave her a suspicious look as his brows knitted together. He asked, “So, what’s the plan, then? We form our own little team of vigilantes and try to take the guy out ourselves once Jane gives us the signal? Seems a bit reckless, doesn’t it?”

“Not that I don’t enjoy meself a bit of risk-lootin’, but Johnny-boy’s right,” Vandala chimed in, “Wouldna be better to go to the police so they could nab the bilge rat themselves? That be thar job after all. ‘N how do we know he doesn’t have somethin’ that might hurt us, like somethin’ that messes up the balance of ectoplasm or somethin’?”

Twyla crossed her arms, “Well, for one: Literally nothing of the sort exists.”

She looked at all of them, “And the reason is, because we simply don’t have time to wait around if those birds she talked to do see something. The police hardly respond to house calls or strange sightings as it is, I doubt they’ll go look at something reported by a bunch of kids because one of them apparently talks to birds who said they saw something.”

“Good point,” Operetta said, “They ain’t probably ever hear somethin’ like that. We can’t trust that they won’t think it ain’t some kind of crank call from asshole kids wantin’ to play pranks based on the situation.”

That earned her a nod from Twyla, “Exactly.”

Kiyomi looked up at the boogeygirl with a bit of an apprehensive look. Her skin started to darken to grey with worry.

“Not that I doubt that you haven’t thought ahead, Twyla,” she said, “But won’t it be dangerous for us to go out there? What if he’s still there or it’s a trap?”

Twyla opened her mouth to reply, but Spectra answered for her.

“That’s why she called all of us here,” she responded, “Because we’re at the least risk of being attacked if anything happens.”

They all glanced towards her, before looking back at Twyla for confirmation. She nodded.

“Since ectoplasm is a substance not of the earthly realm, ghosts have little to no weaknesses in the physical world,” she explained, “Even phantoms like Operetta are immune to most human things like illness or physical injury. If he is still lingering at whatever site Jane’s birds see him in or he has it boobytrapped, the only ones at real risk of being hurt are me and Billy, and even then we have our own powers to help us.”

“I don’t know,” Billy muttered, rubbing his cheek, “My invisibility didn’t really add up to much when the fucker seems to have a nose like a werewolf.”

Spectra gave him a sympathetic look. She put her hand on top of his where it was on his lap and reached over to give him a kiss on the other cheek. Billy leaned into it, seemingly drawing comfort form the gesture.

“He has a point. What about your safety, Twyla?” Porter asked, “I mean, this guy sounds like he’s become an expert shadow jumper, and he’s not a natural boogeyman. You _are, _though, but I remember you said you’re still having trouble with it...”

Twyla sighed and looked down at her socks, pondering the thought.

“I don’t understand it, either,” she admitted, “Shadow jumping can take years to perfect. The fact that the killer’s managed to get it down in only a few months tells me he’s either studied a lot about it, or he’s just been winging it the whole time and whenever he’s fucked up, it’s been out of sight for other monsters to see it.”

She looked back up at them, her gaze stern and concentrated.

“Which is why I thought you all were the best,” she said, “I know it’s a lot I’m putting on you, but you guys are the best chances of us being able to find something without the threat of someone being the next target.”

Vandala grinned, “O’ course; the scabby sea bass can nah abduct somethin’ he can’t touch. N’ even if he did, what’s he gonna do, rattle chains at us? Spook us to life?”

She stood up from the seat and turned to Twyla, reaching up to tilt her hat at her.

“Ye can count me in, lass. A pirate ne’er runs from any rapscallion trying to take thar treasures,” she said.

“Ah’m in too,” Operetta said, “It’s ‘bout time we finally put an end to all this rigmarole. Ah’m tired of sittin’ around like a little ghoul while mah friends get hurt.”

Johnny stood up, “If ‘Retta’s in, then I’m in, too.”

“Me, too,” Porter said.

“Me, too,” Kiyomi added.

Spectra floated up, “I’m in, too. If there’s any discoveries to be made, the Ghostly Gossip will make sure that everyone knows first hand.”

Twyla smiled at all them, “Thanks, you guys.”

“I’m in, too,” Sirena waved her hand, “Plus, if there’s anyone who knows anything about hybrids and mixing up monster powers, it’s me-”

She was cut off with the sound of indie music as her phone began to ring. Everyone looked in her direction. Sirena glanced down at her belt, where she had her phone clipped to one of the loops. She glanced back at the group with embarrassment, her cheeks glowing light pink.

“A-ha, s-sorry about that!” she apologized, “I just need to take this for a minute.”

The name on the screen said it was a call from Rider. Everyone waited quietly as she pressed “call” and brought it up to her ear.

“Hello?” she greeted.

“_Sirena, hey,” _Rider said back, “_Have you heard from Gigi at all? Or seen her at all, today?” _

The urgent, stiff tone of the merman’s voice immediately let her know that something was wrong. Sirena’s tail stopped swishing and hung under her, still. She felt a sudden sinking feeling in her chest.

“Um, no?” she answered, “I don’t really...talk to her all that much. Why, something happen?”

“_Fuck,” _Rider answered, “_Goddammit it, not her. __Not her, fuck!” _

The sinking feeling increased as Sirena began to realize what she thought had happened. She questioned, “R-R-Rider, why? W-What’s wrong?”

Twyla and all them stared at her, equally confused by the sudden change in the hybrid’s mood. Vandala looked up at her ghoulfriend and gestured with her hands to communicate _What’s wrong? _Sirena held up a finger for her to wait.

On the other end, Rider let out a heavy sigh. When he spoke, his voice was shaky; that was something she’d never heard from the usually upbeat merman.

“_I’ve been trying to call her since three this afternoon. She hasn’t picked up her phone at all, it just keeps going straight to voicemail,” _he explained, “_Then Howleen just called me about ten minutes ago. She said that Gigi’s dad called her and found that the house was empty when he came back from work. Howleen hasn’t seen her, either, since this afternoon.” _

Sirena’s eyes widened in horror. Immediately, she knew what had happened.

“I-I’m sorry, Rider, I haven’t,” she said, “I-Is there anything I can do?”

Rider let out a tired sigh, “_No. Nothing that hasn’t already been done before. Just...if you see or hear anything else, call me.” _

He hung up without another word. Sirena looked at the screen with despair. Vandala, noting the unusual troubled expression on her ghoulfriend’s face, got up and reached up to touch her hand.

“Sirena?” she said, “Who was that?”

Sirena looked out at all of them and clutched her phone to her chest. Her eyes started to grow shiny with ectoplasm tears.

“R-Rider...” was all she could say, “H-He said...Gigi...she wasn’t home when she was supposed to be...”

It was enough for everyone to figure out her meaning. They all gasped as their eyes widened with shock.

“Goddammit, how many fucking more people does this guy want until he’s satisfied?!” Porter questioned with frustration, “It’s like he’s just reaching into the hat until everyone is part of this sick fucking game he has!”

Kiyomi glowed a darker gray as she rubbed her arms like she was cold. “It was only a few days ago that they found Clawd,” she said, “Is this something he wants to do now? Every time he lets someone go, he grabs someone else to replace them?”

“I don’t know,” Twyla said. She looked out the window near the hall. The clock read that it was half past seven. The sky was already a haunting bluish-black outside, the bright white hue of the crescent moon washing out the stars and casting an eerie white aura around it. The landscape outside was nothing but a bunch of pitch black silhouettes.

Suddenly, her phone rang.

Everyone went still as statues. They turned towards her. Twyla pulled it from her pocket.

It was Jane.

Twyla’s mouth dropped open in shock. Could it be…?

She pressed it to her ear, “Talk to me.”

“_Twyla!” _Jane exclaimed, “_The ravens, they came back! They saw him- they were able to find where the masked man was heading!” _

Twyla’s eyes went wide. “Really?” she replied, “Where? Did they manage to see anything that stuck out!”

“_Yeah, I have them here right now!” _Jane replied, “_They said they saw him an hour earlier, just right after the sun went down. __He was shadow-jumping at first, but they said he always kept a straight line as he did so, and he finally stopped at this place off...” _

Twyla heard her take her mouth away from the phone and mutter something unintelligible in the background. She heard some kind of bird croak in what seemed to be a response to her.

“_They __said it was off ‘the big part of that __long grey road near the edge of the city__, where that giant board with the creepy face stands up from the trees and __there’s a bunch of cut down logs on the left side,” _Jane rehearsed.

“Creepy face near the trees...do they mean that billboard off I-16?” Twyla asked, “The one that advertises the Freddie and the Freakshow tour? The one with the white face and blue makeup, right?”

She heard Jane ask, presumably, the ravens the same question. A moment later, she replied, “_Yes! They say that’s the one. _

“_Anyway, they said around that area, on the other side of where the construction is going on, there’s this wide, grey paved lot that has a bunch of small __little buildings lined up on it,” _she described_, “These buildings, they said, have a bunch of orange doors on the front and back of them, and their roofs are orange. There’s about two rows, with four buildings per row, and off the side there’s a small little building. _

“_They said,” _she continued, “_That they saw the masked man stop here. He apparently went to one of the doors of these buildings and lifted it up, before he went in and closed it.” _

Jane’s voice gained a small edge to it as she said, “_Twyla, they also said...they said it looked like he had someone over his shoulder. A girl, perhaps, with...w-with pink hair.”_

_ Gigi, _Twyla thought. The ravens had caught him red-handed, just as he had arrived with his newest victim.

“Did he leave at all after that, that they saw?” she questioned, “Before they came to you.”

“_Yes,” _Jane replied, “_They say just before they were about to take off, the masked man had gone through the door he had opened up. Not that he opened it up and walked out, but that he, in their words, ‘popped up from the shadow like a snake hiding’. Then he shadow jumped again. One of them stayed behind while the other two came here.” _

Twyla realized her hands felt clammy. Her heartbeat had picked up and she could feel her blood start to pump through her veins with adrenaline.

_ Finally, _they had some answers.

“Jane,” she spoke up, “Are they still with you?”

“_Yeah. They’re right next to me, with Needles,” _the purple skinned ghoul replied.

“Good,” Twyla answered, “Do you need us to come pick you up?”

Jane paused for a second, seemingly unaware of what she meant. She answered, “_ U-Um, yeah. My stepdad was called down to the precinct, so I’m home alone right now.” _

Twyla nodded, “We’ll be there in just a few minutes. You live on Reaper’s Row, right?”

“_Yeah, right at the end of the cul-de-sac. Our house is the one with the blue door and the ivy growing up one of the pillars.” _

“Good. Make sure you dress warm, there’s no telling how long we’ll be out,” Twyla said.

They hung up. Twyla turned and looked at Billy and the ghosts. They were all awaiting an explanation, all of them on the edge of their seats and leaning forward with interest.

“Gets your coats on and grab your flashlights,” Twyla ordered, “We’re going in.”

* * *

“Please, please n-no more,” Manny begged, his words punctuated with a sob, “Please, stop! Stop, no mo-o-o-ore...”

The masked man ignored him as he stared down at the minotaur’s hands in the pillory. They shook violently, the tan hide-covered skin covered in blood. The veins bulged under the area of his knuckles like earthworms coming up from the soil.

He had severed the boy’s left index finger as well as the ring and pinkie fingers on his right hand, leaving them nothing more than bloody stumps with jagged chunks of bone sticking out of them. The severed fingers lay at the masked man’s feet.

“Stop crying,” he ordered, “All this incessant mooing, it’s getting on my nerves.”

Manny immediately quieted at once; he sucked in his lips and stared up at the masked man with frightened, teary eyes. The brand on his cheek was infected, with the outline now dark red and leaking puss as the damaged skin became dead and black.

“P-Please, please let me go,” the teen begged, “Please, l-let Iris go. S-S-She didn’t ever do anything, you can kill me, b-b-but please let her go.”

At the mention of the cyclops’s name, the masked man looked over where Iris dangled to Manny’s right. He then realized she hadn’t made a peep since he had come back here and started his business with them. Not even when he began to cut through Manny’s fingers with his garden shears had Iris said anything.

She was completely still as she hung from the ceiling, her toes just barely brushing the concrete floor. Her head was down, preventing him from looking at her face. Her matted and filthy green locks spilled over her shoulders and down her back and stuck to her skin where the blood had dried.

The masked man looked down at her chest. It wasn’t moving at all.

He trekked over to her and put his hand on her chest, just above the swell of her breast where her heart was. He failed to feel any beating. The masked man looked up at her arms and reached up, sliding one thumb under one of her cuffs to press against her wrist.

There was no pulse.

He looked back down at her face. The masked man lowered his face, trying to listen for her breathing over the sound of Manny’s blubbers to let him release them. There was none.

As a final confirmation, the masked man grabbed a handful of Iris’s hair at the top of her head and pulled, raising her her head so he could see her face.

Her pale, grey-toned face stared back at him blankly, her face permanently frozen in a dazed, confused expression. Her single grass green eye was clouded over, with a reddish-brown line of color running horizontally across her sclera.

The masked man nodded in understanding as he let go of her hair, leaving her to slump there. He turned to Manny.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said, “It seems your sweet ghoul has decided to cross over to the other side.”

Manny froze. He stopped in his pleas and went silent. He turned his head to the left, his face pale and his eyes wide with disbelief.

“...W-W….W-What?” he asked. His voice was barely more than a whisper.

The masked man gestured to Iris. “She’s dead. Passed away. Pushing up daisies. She is no longer living.”

He turned back to Iris and shook his head. “Not that I’m surprised,” he said, “After how high I went on those electric shocks, I was surprised she was still kicking after I turned it up to seventy volts. Normally, that’s enough to kill a whole bull.”

He shrugged, “My best guess is she probably passed out soon after I left or when you fell asleep and her heart gave out. Oh, well. Everyone has their time.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key and started undoing the restraints around Iris’s wrists. He looked over at Manny.

“No reason for keeping her tied up anymore, is there?” he asked, “Not like she can run away anymore.”

Manny didn’t respond. He stared at his ghoulfriend’s lifeless body as the masked man loosened her handcuffs and stepped back, allowing her to drop to the floor lack a sack of potatoes. Iris collapsed onto her side and remain still.

Manny stared down at her, his mouth open in shock. Slowly, devastation filled his dark blue eyes.

“I-I-I-Iris…?” he called to her, “I-Iris!”

The masked man shook his head, as if sharing in his grief.

“She did last longer than I thought she would, I’ll give her that,” he said.

Manny’s breath hitched. Suddenly, he let loose the loudest, most heartwrenching wail that the masked man thought he had ever heard in his life.

“IRIS!” Manny screamed, tears running down his face as he kept his gaze on her body, “IRIS, NO! DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEASE, PLEASE, I LOVE YOU, IRIS! I LOVE YOU! PLEASE GET UP! SAY SOMETHING, PLEASE!”

He bent his head and closed his eyes, his fists clenching despite his ruined fingers. He sobbed, “Iris...please, no...”

The masked man felt nothing as he watched the scene. The only thing he could think of, was that it was clear the minotaur was at the end. Another disappointment.

“I’ll give you yours when I return tomorrow,” he said as he turned around, “It’s clear you’ve lost whatever little fight you had left.”

He melted in the shadows without another word, leaving Manny to scream and cry out Iris’s name as he begged in vain for her to get up.


	18. Chapter 17: The Boiling Point

“Remember: It’s a paved lot with small buildings that have orange doors and roofs,” Twyla said, leaning forward between the front seats to get a better look out the windshield.

To her left, Billy stared up into the rearview, before he put on his turn signal and quickly pulled into the far lane.

“Paved lot, orange doors; paved lot, orange doors...” he repeated as he drove, trying to pay attention to the road and look out his window for something matching the description at the same time.

“Turn here at the light, it’ll be much faster than the roundabout,” Operetta said from the backseat, “Mah ma uses that route whenever she’s running late and the traffic’s backed up.”

Billy took her word and made a sharp turn into the left lane at the traffic light coming up. They all winced as they heard the car behind them blare their horn angrily, but Billy kept his eyes on the road as he made a sharp turn as soon as the light turned green and stepped on the gas.

Jane, who sat in the backseat behind Spectra, rolled down her window and leaned her head out slightly to look up at the sky. The cold winter air of the night bit at her face and chilled her through her entire body, but she bared it as she searched for three familiar black shapes. It was hard to pinpoint them with Billy speeding and weaving through the few cars that remained on the road, but she was able to catch a glance at the ravens as they flew up ahead, trying to keep up with the car as they guided it to where they said they’d seen the masked man. A few feet away from them, the rest of the ghosts floated alongside Jane and them.

Anxiety ate at her gut like a virus. It was hard to believe that just a few hours prior, she’d been sitting up in her room, trying to study for her math test as Needles kept her company and tried to keep her in good spirits. Her dad was on a business trip and her stepfather had been called in at short notice to the police station, leaving her alone for the rest of the night. Jane had locked all the windows and doors and put up a chair in front of hers with her jewelry box on it as an alarm; she refused to leave her room for anything but the bare minimum.

Then she’d heard a tapping at her window and had looked up to see the three ravens from the other day staring in at her.

They’d come with news. Big news. Then she had called Twyla, and before she knew it, Twyla and the rests of the ghosts and Billy had pulled up to her house, and she had crowded in with Operetta andN Spectra in Billy’s car as they followed the trail that the ravens had said they’d seen the masked man take.

Now, as the moon shone down on them in silent judgment, Jane felt dread building up inside her and making her queasy. There was no telling of what they’d find at the sight that the ravens had said they’d seen the masked man come from. Maybe it would turn out to be nothing and they’d only find a temporary shelter that he used.

Something in her gut, however, told her that she had no idea what kind of scene they were going to be walking into.

She pulled herself back into the car and looked ahead, trying to find the orange roofed buildings that the ravens had said they saw. So far, as they drove farther on the highway, she could see nothing but forest that seemed to stretch all the way to the horizon and some construction on the road. So far, no sign of the mysterious clown billboard landmark.

“Come on, come on,” she heard Billy mutter under his breath as he made a turn at the bend, “It’s got to be here somewhere...”

“There’s the exit over there,” Operetta said as she pointed up ahead at a green sign that said that the entrance to I-16 was just a mile away.

Billy took another quick glance into the rearview mirror and looked over his shoulder before he changed lanes again. He was driving rather erratic and was most likely speeding, but neither him or any of the girls could really take the time to notice or care at the moment, all of them preoccupied with other matters at hand.

As he turned onto the exit, Spectra suddenly shot up in her seat and pointed.

“There!” she exclaimed, “The billboard! It’s still there!”

Twyla, Jane, and Operetta all leaned forward between the front seats to catch a glance. Sure enough, just as Jane had described, a billboard stood out from above the trees, towering over even the vast heights of the pines that surrounded it. Displayed on it was a large creepy clown face that jutted out from the billboard, with sculpted blue hair and wild blue diamond eye makeup that accentuated its terrifying black eyes. Its mouth was stretched into a demonic red smile that showed the false fangs that hang out from under its top lip. Next to the clown face was an advertisement for the reunion tour of a heavy metal monster band.

“Okay, everyone keep your eyes out,” Billy ordered as he slowed his speed, “Paved lot, orange roofs, orange doors.”

The ghouls twisted in their seats to look out their respective windows, trying to search for any trace of orange they could find. They were all stiff with anxiousness, both dreading and anticipating whatever they were about to see when they found these strange buildings.

Operetta pressed her nose to her window and squinted, trying to see through the thick trees that lined the side of the road. It was hard for her eyes to catch anything with it being so dark and Billy going so fast.

Suddenly, she caught a flash of a side of the wall. She shot up in her seat, her back straight as a rail as she kept her gaze glued on that direction.

“Right there!” she shouted, twisting in her seat, “Billy, stop! It’s right over there!”

Billy and the girls looked to the left. Jane gasped as they passed by it; a makeshift dirt road created a sudden turn off the other side of the road going north. It led to a sudden clearing in the woods, where, as they all observed, a series of low one-story buildings lay in neat rows on a large foundation of pavement. They were surrounded on all sides by a barbed wire fence that looked like it was in need of some repair.

They all looked like miniature garages, with the doors of each building being the kind that you slid up and pulled down to enter and exit. There were about two rows of them, each of which had four buildings running along it vertically, long end to long end.

The color on all of them, as well as the steel that made up their roofs, was a muted orange that looked a little bit fluorescent with the starlight.

It was the exact description of the buildings that the ravens had been talking about.

Billy slammed on his brakes. The tires squealed as they came to sudden halt and the car lurched backward violently, all of them getting thrown back into their seats hard, with the exception of Spectra.

Johnny suddenly came into view at the driver’s side window and tapped on it. Billy rolled it down.

“I think we just found El Dorado,” Johnny said, peaking over her shoulder at the array of buildings that lay a few feet away from them. Behind him, the rest of the ghosts floated by, waiting for the next step.

Him and Billy turned to look at Twyla. She furrowed her brows as she stared ahead at the structure. Something about it gave her an ominous feeling.

One of the ravens landed on the side mirror and cawed loudly. The three of them turned to Jane.

“He says this is the place,” Jane translated for the bird. She pointed to somewhere towards the buildings, “He said they saw the masked man appear from the door at the end of the one second to last on the right.”

They all shared a look. Twyla looked back towards the building, before she sat back to undo her seatbelt.

“Let’s get going,” she said, “It’s time we see what our ‘friend’ has been doing in his spare time.”

* * *

(_Earlier_…_) _

Jackson sat at a table in one of the labs on a stool, bent over the microscope he was using as he fiddled with the small petri dish he’d placed under the lens. He had his earbuds in so he could listen to his diePod as a means to have some background noise in the small room.

Looking into the eyepiece, he kept his focus on the small little fly larva that wriggled about in the glycerol solution he’d dripped into the dish. Using a pair of tweezers in his left hand, Jackson grasped the end of the larva’s body, before he used a second pair of tweezers in his right to grasp the head. Pulling slightly, he separated the head from the body seamlessly; he separated a few stray organs from the larva’s head to isolate the brain, before he turned to the laptop that was set up beside the microscope to take a picture of it.

Jackson frowned as he recorded the measurements from the image software he’d downloaded. The size of the head was exactly the same as it had been for the four other measurements he’d taken- a whole three millimeters’ difference than the previous sample.

“That can’t be right,” he muttered as he sat up, “If their path gene was mutated _and _they were starved for longer, than the brain should be bigger.”

Pulling out his earbuds, Jackson looked around the lab. Dr. Moreau stood off in the corner near one of the fume hoods against the wall in the back, bent over as he wrote down something in his lab notebook.

“Dr. Moreau, do you think you could take a look at this? I think something might be off with these larvae,” Jackson called out to him.

The doctor did not respond to him. He kept looking back and forth between the fume hood and his notebook, his arm furiously scribbling on the paper.

Jackson turned in his stool, a bit concerned about the rapid way that the hybrid monster was writing.

“Dr. Moreau?” he called again.

“Hmm?” Moreau replied. He stopped writing and turned to look over his shoulder, “Did you say something?”

Jackson cocked a thumb over his shoulder at the microscope. “I, uh, was asking if you could take a look at these samples. I think something might be off with them.”

“Oh! Of course!” Dr. Moreau replied. He set his pen down and adjusted his coat as he made his way over to Jackson’s station. He gave the brunette an apologetic smile.

“Pardon me, Jackson, I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he said as he came up to him, “I’m afraid I’ve just got a lot of things on my mind lately and it distracts me at the worst moments.”

Jackson nodded, “I get it. You have a lot of work you have to do.”

He had an idea of the kind of work that exactly entailed, considering Dr. Moreau’s position in the investigation as to the missing students, but he made sure to keep any mention of that part out.

Dr. Moreau gave him a grateful smile before he turned to the laptop. “So what seems to be the problem?” he asked.

Jackson pointed at the spreadsheet had open, which displayed a table that he used to record his measurements. He explained, “These last few samples I’ve taken have been noticeably much longer than the control samples, but these ones have had the path gene rendered nonfunctional, and they’ve been put on the starvation diet. All the other samples prior have been consistent with the prior data. But these ones are really strange?”

Dr. Moreau bent down so he could get a closer look at the spreadsheet. He scrolled down using the mousepad to look at the previous results, before he turned to the window that had the measurement software open.

“Ah, now I see it!” he said as he looked at Jackson; he pointed to the screen, “Simple mathematical error here!”

Jackson leaned in to get a closer look. Dr. Moreau tapped on where he had said the scale of the imaging software. Instead of “mm” in the units box, there was an “nm”.

“You have it reading in nanometers instead of millimeters,” Dr. Moreau explained, “You must’ve accidentally hit a key or it glitched out as you were gathering up the new samples.”

He smiled and stood up. “No worries,” he said, “We’ll just have to discard those samples and test a few more.”

“O-Oh, okay. S-Sorry...” Jackson mumbled as he blushed, feeling embarrassed at not having caught such a simple mistake. He hadn’t even considered looking over anything on his computer to see if it was just an error of judgment.

Dr. Moreau caught the self-conscious look on his face and smiled sympathetically.

“It seems we’ve both been a little preoccupied with other matters lately, huh?” he asked.

Jackson smiled at him sheepishly, his blush deepening as he rubbed the back of his neck. He answered, “Y-Yeah, guess so. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, it happens. Especially with our circumstances, it’s a wonder how anyone can focus right now,” Dr. Moreau replied, slightly wincing as he said the latter sentence.

His smile came back as he put a friendly hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “How about we both just call it a night by now?” he asked, “We can always make up the sample size for another day.”

Jackson looked up at him with a look of doubt and responded, “Are you sure? I can always stay late so we don’t have any extra work.”

Dr. Moreau shook his head. He pulled back his sleeve to take a glance at his watch.

“It’s already past the curfew and I don’t want to be the one responsible for getting you into trouble,” he said, “Besides, it’s late. I need to get home anyway; now that Jane’s father is out of state, she’s on her own until I get out of work, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving her that way for longer than I have to.”

Jackson nodded in understanding. “Okay, then.”

“In fact, do you need a ride home at all?” Dr. Moreau asked, “If it’s on the way, I can always make a stop.”

That earned him a smile from the brunette, though Jackson shook his head. “My mom let me borrow her car,” he said, “But thank you.”

He turned back to his laptop as Dr. Moreau nodded and went on to gather up his own things. Deleting the previous measurements and making a quick note to re-do the mutant trial, he saved his spreadsheet file before he shut down his laptop. He slid his phone into his pocket and grabbed his messenger bag from its cubbyhole to put his laptop into it.

He was in the process of dumping the larva and glycerol into the waste container when he was alerted to the sound of a phone vibrating. He turned to see Dr. Moreau fish out his phone from his labcoat pocket.

A flicker of dread came across the hybrid doctor’s features. It was enough for Jackson to assume who was calling him.

“Hello?” Moreau answered.

Jackson paused by the table, watching his reaction. Moreau’s eyebrows furrowed as he listened to the caller, before his eyes suddenly widened to an impossibly large size. His whole figure went stiff and his fist balled at his side.

“...How long have you had these?” he asked, “...Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

“Everything okay?” Jackson asked as he hung up the phone.

Dr. Moreau looked at him, his green eyes hard and stern. He let out a long sigh.

“I’m afraid I have to get going, Jackson,” he said, “I need to head up to the station. It’s an emergency, apparently. Have you managed to clean up everything?”

“I just have to dump the waste bottles, but that’s it,” he answered.

“Good,” Dr. Moreau answered, “You can follow me out. I don’t want to leave you here all by yourself at this hour.”

They quickly rushed to clean up as they carried over their waste bottles to the proper containers and emptied them out, before Jackson powered down the microscope while Dr. Moreau quickly cleaned the test tubes he was using and put them back in the appropriate drawer.

As Dr. Moreau shut off the lights to the fume hood and the computer next to it, Jackson swiped his key card off the table from where he’d placed it earlier and grabbed his phone and messenger bag. He then met him at the door and stepped out to allow Moreau to shut off the lights.

“Is everything all right, doc?” Jackson asked as they hurriedly walked down the hallway; it was only a few minutes before seven, but with the few remaining employees in the building shut away in other labs, it was dead silent in the hallway. Had he been alone, it would’ve been deeply unsettling. It actually made him glad he didn’t have to clean up by himself.

Dr. Moreau shook his head dismissively, though his expression remained troubled as he looked down at his phone and texted someone. “Aw, something else came up with the detectives that they want me to take a look at,” he said, “They said they wanted to talk to me on Friday, actually, but I at a conference at the time.

“Apparently, they just got something big and they want to me to see it as soon as possible,” he added as he slid his phone back into his pocket. He looked ahead with a tired look.

“Hopefully, it’s not just more gore,” he muttered under his breath. Jackson thought he wasn’t supposed to hear that part.

It wasn’t even eight o’clock, but the sky was already fully dark like it was close to midnight as they stepped out of the building. Moreau turned to Jackson, a tired smile on his face that looked like it was mean to be reassuring.

“Well, I’ll be taking my leave here,” he said, “I’ll see you on Friday, Jackson.”

“See ya,” Jackson said in parting. Moreau gave him a nod before he turned around and headed to his car; his pace was noticeably quick and it made his bag bang against his hip in a way that looked uncomfortable.

Not wanting to stick around in the dark lot by himself, Jackson made his own hurry as he made his way to where his mom’s Toyota was parked at the corner of the lot. He took the keys from the pocket of his coat to unlock it and slid in.

He suddenly stopped, however, as he felt something hard and plastic hit his hand. It was thin and felt smooth.

“What the hell...” Jackson muttered as he pulled it out, revealing the object to be a plastic key card on a lanyard.

He furrowed his brows in confusion and turned it over, revealing one side to have his name and ID picture printed on one side.Hadn’t he just grabbed his card from the table, though? He wondered. Jackson reached into the pocket of his pants where he had slipped it in.

Instead of his face, though, this one had a picture of Dr. Moreau printed on it. Next to it were the words LEODORE MOREARU, PHD ENVIRONMENTAL BIOLOGY in bright green.

“Crap,” Jackson mumbled. He had mistakenly grabbed the doctor’s by accident as they left, remembering how he had left his ID in his coat pocket when he had entered the lab earlier specifically because he didn’t want to risk leaving it behind by putting it down as he took his coat off. Ironic. In his haste to get to the police station, Dr. Moreau seemed to not have noticed he didn’t have his ID on him.

He checked the time on his phone. It was 7:05. According to their arrangements, he was supposed to shift soon to allow Holt to have the rest of the night so he could finish up his homework for night school and have some time to hang out with their parents.

Sighing, Jackson opened to the chatroom they had created to allow the two of them to better communicate with one another.

_Accidentally took Doc Moreau’s key card w/ me. Left in hurry 2 police station b4 I realized it. Will wake up early tmrrw so I can give it 2 him b4 school _

Sending it, he switched out and pressed on the music app. Scrolling through his playlist, Jackson selected one of Holt’s favorite songs and pressed the volume button on the side to turn it up to maximum.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Shifting was always the worst part of their dynamic to him.

A familiar sense of heat came over him, and the car momentarily filled up with bright red light as Jackson’s body contorted and changed to Holt’s.

Holt opened his eyes and found himself sitting in his mom’s car. He looked to his right and found Jackson’s bag beside him; his own backpack was resting on the floor, prepared by the brunette earlier in the day. He felt something in his hand and looked down to see he was holding a keycard; he furrowed his brows in confusion when he saw it seemed to belong to someone else.

His phone pinged with a message. Holt opened them up to see Jackson’s message. He glanced up at the time. An idea came to his mind and he shrugged.

_No, its ok, _ he typed out, _I’ll return it 2 him b4 I get home_.

“Oh, yeah, ‘accidental’,” Holt murmured in amusement, “Just doesn’t want to admit he’s got more of an inner thief in him than he lets on, heh.”

He texted his parents to let them know he’d be making a quick detour on the way home, before he started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot of the facility, making a left to head in the direction of the police station.

* * *

“I’m sorry this was on such short notice, doctor, but we just didn’t have the patience to wait around any longer,” Firth said as he led Dr. Moreau to the conference room, “Time is already of the essence, but if this the break we’re looking for, Grindylow wants to get on it right away.”

“Of course, detective,” Dr. Moreau replied, “From what you told me, you think may actually have a lead?”

For once, ever since he started cooperating with New Salem’s investigative unit, Moreau saw the cyborg detective’s eyes light up with positive emotion, like there was finally some good news to be found in these dreary last few months.

“Only that someone seems to caught a good look at the bastard entirely by accident,” Firth said, “He was doing his best to hide, only to be seen in plain sight.”

Moreau looked at him in shock. “You’re serious?” he asked.

Firth nodded, “That’s why we wanted to call you in as soon as possible. We thought if you got a look at the sketch, then this may help us finally figure out on what possible suspects to look for.”

Grindylow and Vitae were already in the conference room, pouring over the papers they had found. Grindylow’s head shot up as Firth and Moreau entered.

“Doctor,” he greeted.

“Detective,” Moreau replied back, “I understand you have a possible sketch of our killer for me to look at?”

Grindylow sighed heavily, coughing slightly as the grumble caused his throat to scratch. He had been smoking a lot more often than usual and it was starting to take an effect on his health.

“It seems we do,” he said, “I hope you could at least offer up some suggestions on what species this guy may belong to, because I honestly don’t know what the fuck I’m looking at.”

He explained the previous police reports they had received from the departments along the west coast and the evidence that they’d been sent that seemed to fall in line with the methods that the killer had been using. Moreau nodded in understanding and raised one brow in surprise as Grindylow got to the part of the witness sketch that had been provided from the old woman.

“She saw him with his mask off all the way?” he asked in surprise, “Man, what a lucky strike. Sounds almost too good to be true.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully it isn’t,” Grindylow muttered, “Cuz I’m getting pretty damned tired of chasing this trail of breadcrumbs and finding no gingerbread house.”

Dr. Moreau looked down at the floor and rubbed his chin. “The transparency and lack of a scent definitely sounds like the attributes of a ghost and could certainly explain his swiftness in getting away with leaving little trace at the crime scenes,” he said, “If she says he looks like an animal, it sounds like he may be a werecat or lycan of some kind who was resurrected after death.”

He frowned as he thought of the other factors they’d discussed. “Still doesn’t explain the shadow traveling or moments of solidity he has, though...”

“Well, maybe these will help,” Grindylow said, reaching over and grabbing the photograph of the note from Screamfield off the table.

“Our graphologist already confirmed the handwriting to match the notes found at the previous two crime scenes,” he explained as he handed it over, “Perhaps you could find if it has some sort of cultural relevance or species-specific meaning to it.”

Moreau took it and looked down at the picture. His brows furrowed at first glance; Grindylow could see his eyes darting from left to right as he re-read the writing.

He suddenly stiffened. His eyes widened in shock as his fists clenched tightly to the paper, crinkling the edges a little.

Grindylow raised a brow at his reaction. The doctor had reacted in a similar way when they had him listen to the recording of Silvi Timberwolf’s account of her imprisonment, when he had explained to them a possible connection the killer may have had to the original Dr. Moreau’s beast folk.

“Doctor?” he called out, “Dr. Moreau, what is it?”

“T-That...that is the law...” Dr. Moreau muttered, staring down at the note with horror, “Are we not men...it can’t be...”

“Dr. Moreau?” Firth said this time, concerned.

The doctor didn’t acknowledge either of them. He continued to stare at the picture with horror, his face fuzzy face becoming drained of all color. His hands were clenched so tight Grindylow could see his veins bulging out from under the back of his hands. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as if it were a rock lodged in his throat.

Dr. Moreau slowly looked up at him. His expression was like that of a deer caught in headlights.

“Where is the sketch that was provided?” he asked in a small voice.

Vitae looked back and forth between Grindylow and Firth, worried about the doctor’s demeanor. Both men stared at him for a second, unsure as to how to proceed.

“Um, it’s...right here,” Firth said as he reached behind him to grab it, “Are okay, doctor? Maybe you should sit down...”

“I’m fine,” Moreau answered in a tight voice that betrayed his reply, “May I see it?”

Firth, eyeing him warily, held it out to him. Dr. Moreau’s movements were robotic as he slowly took the sketch from him and glanced down at it.

His mouth dropped open the minute his eyes landed on the sketch of the killer’s face and somehow, he seemed to grow paler. Grindylow took a cautious step forward; at this point, Moreau looked he was about to faint.

Moreau began trembling. The paper fluttered in his hands as they began to shake so violently it seemed like they were about to rip the sketch in half. Grindylow could hear him begin to breathe out through his mouth; his breaths were shallow pants, like he was on the verge of having a panic attack.

“I-I-It can’t be...” Moreau mumbled out fearfully, “H-He can’t be here...he couldn’t be...”

“Dr. Moreau?” Firth asked, now stepping forward in order to place a hand on the doctor’s arm, ready to catch him in case he happened to fall.

“It suits him...” Moreau continued, “I-It fits right up his alley, but...b-but there’s no way he could be here...”

“Doctor?” Grindylow asked.

Dr. Moreau finally looked up at him. The poor man looked like his knees were going to give out on him at any second. Out of the corner of his eye, Grindylow could see Vitae slowly reaching for the phone, ready to call for assistance.

“I...I recognize this man,” Dr. Moreau confessed, “I know him. H-He was one of the Beast Folk. H-He...he helped destroy the island.”

* * *

Twyla and the others slowly walked along the dirt path to the lot, all of them looking around warily as her, Jane, Billy, and Operetta tried to remain as quiet as they could. All around them, the trees on either side of the clearing towered over them menacingly, as if they were giants watching their every step.

“Okay, everyone keep an eye out,” Twyla whispered as she led them at the front, “We don’t know who may be here.”

Operetta looked up at the large sign that stood at the corner of the lot that overlooked the road.

“Grundy’s Storage and Rental Trucking,” she narrated as she read the sign, “Huh. Never even knew this was here. Seems a bit dumpy.”

“I’ve seen it a few times whenever I’ve had to drive here,” Billy said, his hand clasped with Spectra’s tightly as she floated next to him, “Never gave it much thought, though.”

“Well, hopefully the owner don’t mind us havin’ a look around,” Vandala muttered as she looked out at the units suspiciously. Her and Sirena floated side by side, their hands also laced together.

As they came to the end of the dirt road, they came upon the gate attached to the fence that seemed to open and close off the facility to any travelers. It was pulled back, allowing the entrance to remain open. The wheels at the bottom, Twyla noticed, were rusted and covered in filth, like they’d remained at this position for a while.

She looked ahead and suddenly froze, her hands flying out on either side of her to stop Jane and the others. They all paused and looked at her, awaiting her reasoning.

“There’s a truck over there,” Twyla muttered, pointing ahead.

Everyone followed the direction of her finger. Several yards away from them, a small building lay off to the side at the end of the lot, away from the rest of the storage units. It had windows and a small series of concrete steps leading up to its entrance. Parked in front of it was a pick-up truck.

Twyla gestured for everyone to gather around. They all leaned in to form a small circle, crouched or bent over with their hands on their knees.

“Everyone, spread out,” Twyla whispered to them, “Jane, you and Kiyomi will come with me. Billy, ‘Retta, you two stay with Spectra and Johnny. Everyone else, just be careful and try to be quiet. We don’t know if there’s any security or a guard dog here at this hour.

“We’ll take a look around, try to find anything suspicious that we can alert to the cops to, if not just to get a scope of the place. At any time there’s any sign of danger, everyone make a break for the car, no alternatives,” she explained, “Got it?”

“Aye, aye, matey,” Vandala whispered. Billy, Jane, and the rest of the ghosts nodded in agreement.

“Okay, then, everyone keep on the lookout,” Twyla said, before she stood up.

They all broke apart and started for the storage units. Twyla turned to Jane. One of the ravens that she had seemingly communicated with was now resting on her shoulder. Another two hopped around at her feet, staring up at Twyla with eerily focused expressions.

“Which storage unit did the birds say they saw him coming out of?” she asked in a low voice.

Jane pulled her parka closer to her and looked at the bird. She uttered a strange, garbled honk that sounded like it came deep within the back of her throat the raven.

The raven gave a low, gurgling croak-like sound in response. Jane turned back to Twyla and Kiyomi, who watched with fascination.

“He says the one on the end over there,” she said, pointing to one of the units on the right that sat across from the truck, “He says the masked man he stopped by the first door on the left.”

Twyla and Kiyomi turned to where she was pointing. Spectra and Billy were a few feet down from them, slowly trekking along the units on the left side. Johnny and Operetta disappeared around the corner to one of them.

Twyla looked between both girls. Neither of them looked like they wanted to approach the storage unit; Jane’s skin was pale lilac with fright, while Kiyomi was glowing a deep indigo. Twyla knew she probably looked equally frightened, though she tried to stay calm.

“Come on,” she said softly, readying her flashlight in front of her, “Let’s go see.”

* * *

“Guess it’s never too late to be in the mood to beat up homeless people and pepper spray civilians,” Holt muttered to himself as he pulled into the parking lot of the police station, noting all the cruisers and unmarked vehicles that still remained in the lot.

He made his way to the part of the lot reserved for civilian parking and pulled up next to a beaten up Subaru. He grabbed the doctor’s keycard from the cup holder and turned the car off, before he opened his door and slid out. He zipped up his coat as he looked up at the station with a bit of distaste.

While most of his disdain was aimed towards Salem’s human police department and their stuffed-up asshole sheriff- anyone who thought otherwise had obviously never been nearly decapitated to appease the mob who thought all monsters deserved to be killed off by the masses, he thought- Holt didn’t exactly feel much love for the monster police department in his side of town, either. He didn’t have much love for cops, in general.

Still, though, he kept his poker face on as he stepped up to the sidewalk and made his way to the front entrance of the station. A few uniformed officers turned and nodded to him as they passed by; Holt did the same.

Inside, a bespectacled butterfly cryptid sat behind a desk in front of the doors, her attention focused on the computer in front of her as she typed something out. She glanced up out of the corner of her eye as Holt approached, before she swiveled around in her chair to face him.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, is Dr. Leodore Moreau present?” Holt asked, looking down at the keycard to read off the name, “I have something I need to give him.”

“He is,” the butterfly replied, “But I must say, he may not be available right now-”

“That’s all right,” Holt said, pulling away from the desk, “I’ll just give this to him and leave.”

“H-Hey!” The butterfly stood up from her chair as he started for the back offices, “You can’t just go in there- Sir! Sir, you can’t just...”

The blue skinned teen ignored her as he headed for the private area anyway, even as she leaned over the desk to call out to him. Holt just went on his way, one hand in his pocket and the keycard dangling from the other like a tail.

The butterfly made a face, but fell back into her seat with a sigh of defeat.

“Always so rude,” she muttered to herself as she turned back to her computer, “Not even so much as a ‘thank you.’”

Holt looked back and forth into the doorways on either side, looking for the doctor. There were few employees around at this hour; most of them had their backs to him as they typed up reports on computers and talked to civilians in back rooms, presumably to report a crime.

He passed by one room that had the door cracked open just about half an inch, concealing the people inside from his view. There was also no windows on this side of the wall to allow him to see in. Holt paid it no mind and was about to go further down the hall, when he heard a voice come from within.

““T-That...that is the law...Are we not men...it can’t be...” a man stammered.

“Dr. Moreau?” another man responded.

Holt stopped. He turned his head slightly back towards the room, listening in.

There was at first silence. Then the first voice spoke up, “Where is the sketch that was provided?”

“Um, it’s...right here. Are you okay, doctor? Maybe you should sit down...”

Holt looked at the keycard. He was sure he had heard the name correctly.

Whoever was talking within the room, though, didn’t sound like they were doing too good. The guy sounded like he was looking into the face of death itself.

It had caught Holt’s attention, either way. He turned on his heel and faced the room. He could hear the first voice ask if he could see whatever ‘it’ was. The voice was tight, like whoever was talking was trying to hold all his emotion in.

Curious, Holt looked up and down the ends of the hallway, looking out for anyone who may have been coming his way. Save for one officer who passed by, lugging a guy in handcuffs in front of him, the hallway became still and empty.

“I’m just waiting for them to be done,” Holt murmured to himself, “I just don’t want to disturb them if he’s in the middle of a meeting. Then when they’re done, I’ll give him his ID back.”

His self-rationale satisfied, he quietly walked backwards to the room. Holding the knob so that it wouldn’t budge, Holt lightly pressed himself against the door and leaned in so his ear was close to the opening, listening in to the conversation that was currently going on.

“I-I-It can’t be...” he heard the first voice stutter, “H-He can’t be here...he couldn’t be...”

* * *

Grindylow, Vitae, and Firth stared at Moreau, shell-shocked. Grindylow felt his mouth fall open as any response had initially planned on saying to the doctor quickly dissipated with the latter’s sudden revelation.

Moreau stared back at them, pale and shaken. He let his hands fall to his sides, his right one still gripping the witness’s sketch in it. The paper was crumbled and bent, but nobody seemed to notice. His dark green eyes were frightened, and he looked like he was even on the verge of tears.

“You...know this man?” Grindylow repeated, dumbfounded, “This person is familiar to you?”

Moreau swallowed hard and gave a small, curt nod. “Y-Y-Y-Yes...” he replied shakily.

Firth gently gripped him by the arms and guided him over to the table. He pulled out one of the chairs and directed Moreau to sit in it; the doctor collapsed into the seat and let out a shaky breath. Firth reached over to the pitcher of water that they had on the table and poured a glass for him; Moreau took it gratefully and gulped down several swigs

“Take a few minutes, try and calm down,” Firth directed, “Catch your breath, first. Now, are you sure you recognize the man in the photo?”

Moreau took another drink of the water, before looking up at him. He grasped the glass between both hands in a death grip.

“Y-Yes,” he confessed, “It’s been forever, but I’d recognize that face anywhere. He was another of Father’s experiments, another person like...like me.”

Grindylow nodded. He recalled what the doctor had told them last month, about his harsh life as one of the Beast Folk and how Silvi’s statement regarding the killer’s motive had rang eerily familiar to him as being similar to the original Dr. Moreau’s goal for creating the perfect human.

Grabbing a chair, Grindylow slid into the seat across from Moreau. He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward, his gaze stern.

“Tell us everything you know,” he ordered, “Any little detail that you think could be relevant, spill it.”

Moreau looked at him with a haunted gaze. He sat back in his chair.

“Like I had told you and Sergeant Firth prior, detective, life on the island where the Beast Folk was created was a horrendous experience,” he explained, “The first Dr. Moreau was a cruel and selfish man who only cared about reaching the ‘perfection’ of humanity he had dreamed about. He had no qualms about the pain and trauma he inflicted on us if it meant that he could remain one step closer to his goal.

“As part of our ‘teaching’ of how to be human, we were governed by several ‘laws’, he put in place that would prohibit us from acting out typical animal behaviors. Whether it was forbidding us from clawing at trees or drinking water like mammals often do, my father was intent on ridding us of our ‘savage’ instincts,” he continued.

He looked Moreau deep in his eyes. “All of these laws,” he explained, “Ended with the same phrase: ‘...that is the Law; Are we not men?’”

Grindylow’s eyes widened. To his right, he heard Vitae suck in a sharp breath. Firth, who stood behind him, muttered, “Son of a bitch.”

Moreau nodded grimly. “If any hybrid were caught violating these laws, they were subjected to severe punishment. Remote-controlled implants embedded onto our fourth rib bones that delivered electrical shocks. None of us had any idea of these implants; only that when we misbehaved, we all suddenly experienced pain so horrible that it made you feel like your head was bout to explode.”

His face grew dark at the memory. He took a minute to take a deep breath, before he continued, “That was, until one day that would become the catalyst for the entire island’s downfall.

“As you may have read from the Wells’ novel, not long after Edward Pendrick shipwrecked on the island, one of my fellow hybrids was discovered having broken the litany- a leopard hybrid by the name of Lo Mai,” Dr. Moreau’s face grew sad for a second as he rubbed at a stray drop of water that ran down the side of his glass.

“Lo Mai was not a savage by any means,” he commented, “He was just scared and confused and couldn’t help what was his designated nature. In addition to the electrocution, anyone caught breaking the law was immediately put through another procedure to ‘purge’ them of these temptations; as a mercy, Dr. Pendrick killed Lo Mai.”

_Holy fucking Hydras, _Grindylow thought.

Dr. Moreau suddenly frowned. His brows furrowed in thought. “However,” he said, “Lo Mai was not the one solely responsible for hunting the rabbits that were discovered. There was another person breaking the laws alongside him: his best friend, a creature we simply all referred to as Hyena Swine.”

His hands clenched the glass like he was intending to break it. His lips wriggled together as if he had just tasted something sour.

Grindylow raised a brow. The indication was instantaneous.

“The man in the picture,” he said.

Dr. Moreau nodded. The amount of rage in his eyes looked foreign on his usually soft features.

“Hyena Swine was the one who made the discovery about the implants,” he said bitterly, “He came across Lo Mai’s while arranging his bones for a burial after he was cremated. He cut his implant out and revealed his discovery to some of the other beast folk. They formed their own militia of sorts and intended to overthrow my father.

“Coincidentally, just as Hyena Swine was rallying the others to his side, a puma woman who was my father’s most recent creation managed to break out of the lab and fled into the jungle. My father chased her down in an attempt to re-capture her, but they ended up killing each other in a fight,” he added.

He paused for a second and drank the rest of his water down, the act itself looking like it was a bit difficult for him with the tightness of his throat. Firth and Vitae leaned in, both listening attentively. Grindylow remained fixed in his position.

When Dr. Moreau began again, his tone was dripping with resentment, “With my father dead, Hyena Swine and his new followers managed to locate the remote control and other weapons that would be used to hurt us and attempted a full scale mutiny of the island. He tried to shock us the same way Father did and quickly decided to take the label as our new ‘God’.”

His nose wrinkled at the memory. He stared at his now empty glass with hatred. “Festering poisonous cunt,” Grindylow heard him spit under his breath.

Grindylow rested his chin on his laced fingers, contemplating everything the doctor had told them.

“So you have a guy who’s fed up with being treated as a human sized lab rat and discovers a way to make the pain go away,” he said, “With his tormentor out of the way, he’s not only left without someone to inflict the pain on him any longer, but he also figures out a way to put that pain onto others the same way it was put onto him.”

He cupped his chin, “Maybe he wants to enact revenge in some way, maybe he realizes he likes the sadistic side of hunting and hurting people a lot more than his practical instinct as a simple animal would allow. Either way, he’s out for blood.”

“So he leaves with the island with you and the others and proceeds to leave a trail of bodies in his wake,” Firth picked up after him, “Perhaps he sees the evolution of monsterkind and gets pretty pissed that he feels like everyone’s let themselves forget their ‘true calling’ or some bullshit like that, and probably hearing about the reputation of Monster High and the diversity in its student population, decides to have a field day with the students in attendance.”

Vitae shook her head in shock. She mumbled, “It all makes sense. He’s a natural born hunter; we couldn’t figure out his species because it never occurred to us he was more than just a simple wereanimal.”

However, at their statements, Dr. Moreau shook his head. Grindylow raised a brow in curiosity.

“That’s the thing, though, detectives,” Moreau explained, “It _doesn’t _make sense. There’s no way Hyena Swine could be here, after all this time.”

“Why?” Grindylow questioned, “You said it yourself that you and a few other of the hybrids left the island and found a way to stabilize your genetic makeup. You even said that the experiments may serve as a possible motive.”

“I know,” Moreau insisted, “But I know for a fact that Hyena Swine wasn’t one of them. _Couldn’t _be one of them.”

He looked Grindylow dead in the eye.

“I know this, because I was there when Edward Pendrick killed him,” he said grimly, “He’s been dead for almost a hundred and twenty years.”

* * *

“Oooh, this place gives me the creeps already,” Kiyomi said as she rubbed her arms. She looked around at the storage units warily as the girls approached the unit Jane had pointed out.

Jane shivered in the cold air. She let out a shaky breath, which came out as a white cloud in front of her. “I know,” she commented, “I’m freaking myself just thinking about how quiet it is.”

“Just relax,” Twyla advised, slowly approaching the door, her flashlight raised in front of her in caution. She hadn’t turned it on in worry that it would bring unwanted attention, and instead was currently holding it as a makeshift weapon of defense if needed.

Across from the destined unit, Porter and Sirena floated around the truck and the small building, looking for any signs of someone in the building. Twyla stopped just as they reached the far corner of the unit and watched them, awaiting an answer.

Sirena popped out from the driver’s side of the truck.

“The keys are gone,” she said.

“There’s a light on in this place, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s inside,” Porter said, gesturing to the back of the building, “I’m gonna take a look around to see if I can spot anyone.”

Twyla nodded, “Be careful. Don’t let anyone see you.”

Porter and Sirena nodded and went back to investigating. Twyla turned back to the unit. Her heart was hammering wildly in her chest. She tried to be brave- a boogeyman was never supposed to show fear; they _were _fear- but even she could feel the uncertainty and worry of whatever lay beyond the orange doors of these units toying with her.

The three of them stopped in front of the unit. They looked at one another; neither looked like she wanted to be the one to open it.

Twyla took a deep breath. “Okay, then,” she said, “Let’s...take a look, shall we?”

She went forward. A glance to the right showed her that the latch on the door was bare. Sucking in another breath, Twyla bent down and reached for the handle at the bottom of the door.

“Be careful, Twyla,” Kiyomi advised. She floated up and down, her hands clasped to her chest. Jane stood next to her, holding her staff like she was ready to use it as a club. The raven on her shoulder tilted its head at Twyla curiously.

Twyla looked over her shoulder at them and nodded, before she turned back.

The handle of the storage unit’s door was ice cold and almost painful in her palm as she wrapped her fingers around it. Slowly, Twyla tugged on it and started to pull it up; it took some effort with the heavy weight of the steel, but she managed to lift it off the ground. The pulley system at the top took care of the rest.

As she lifted the door to her chest level, she at first saw nothing but darkness within. Then, as she lifted it up above her head and allowed it roll up on its own the rest of the way, she suddenly saw a flash of pink and orange, before-

“HELP!”

A figure came lunging out of the shadows directly in front of her. Twyla stumbled back in shock, nearly tripping as her heels caught onto a rock behind her. Her, Jane, and Kiyomi all simultaneously screamed. The ravens spread their wings and cawed with surprise at the noise.

A small bulb turned on on the inside of the storage unit, illuminating its inside to them.

There, standing right in the middle of the room, her arms and neck wrapped in chains that were tied to the weighted shelves behind her, Gigi leaned towards the three of them, panting heavily while she stared at them with eyes full of fear. She’d been stripped down to her underwear, and her hair had fallen out of its ponytail, leaving the two-toned locks to whip wildly around her face.

Twyla lowered her arms, shocked to actually see the genie. “Gigi?”

“T-T-Twyla? Jane?” Gigi stammered out, shivering violently as a freezing gust of wind blew into the unit. She glanced at the three of them as they stared at her, shocked at her presence. She suddenly made a pained nose and her eyes filled with tears.

“P-P-P-Please, please help me,” she begged, tugging against the chains more, “I-I-I don’t know how I got here. I-I just remember being in my house, a-a-and something in my drink tasted weird, a-a-and now I’m here...”

She sniffled, “Please, please, please! Let me out, let me out...”

The momentary shock left Twyla. She straightened up and rushed into the storage unit to hold the genie.

“Gigi?” she said softly, “Gigi, you have to calm down, okay? Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out of here.”

She looked at the chains that were wrapped around her wrists and neck. The ends were wrapped around several times and attached with small padlocks. The other ends were secured with similar locks on the shelves behind Gigi. Twyla grabbed hold of one of the locks and tugged at it.

“Twyla? What’s going on?!” they heard Operetta call out.

They all turned to see her, Johnny, Billy, and Spectra rush towards them. They all stopped dead in their tracks as their eyes landed on Gigi.

“Oh my goth!” Spectra exclaimed, “Gigi?!”

“One of you, come help me get these locks undone!” Twyla ordered, going towards the shelves and messing with one of the chain attached there.

Jane and Kiyomi rushed forward to help her. Kiyomi took her coat off and wrapped it around Gigi to keep her warm, inspecting her as Gigi trembled and wept with relief. She was badly shaken and needed to get someplace warm right away, but otherwise she seemed to be unharmed.

It seemed that the masked man hadn’t gotten the chance to have his ‘fun’ with her just yet.

“If she’s here, and the killer was here,” Johnny muttered, looking around at the other storage units, “Then that must mean...”

Operetta gave him a grave look, following his line of thinking. Johnny looked over his shoulder at the unit behind them and floated towards it. He suddenly paused a foot or so away from it.

“Hon, what is it? What’s wrong?” Operetta asked.

Johnny held up his hand to silence her. He turned his ear towards the door, listening to something. Operetta came closer; it was hard to hear, with the sounds of Twyla and the others freeing Gigi blocking it out almost, but she could hear a small commotion going on from the inside. It sounded almost like...crying?

Johnny suddenly dipped down and grabbed the handle to yank the door up. Him and Operetta stepped back as it flew open.

“Oh, oh god!” Johnny remarked, his hands flying to his mouth in disgust as they were blasted with a strong, revolting stench of something rotting from inside. Operetta gagged and brought her scarf up over her nose to filter the air out.

The moonlight leaked in from behind them to reveal Meowlody, covered in blood and filth and long since soiled pair of undergarments, sobbing on the floor of the storage unit as she clutched Purrsephone to her chest. There was collar and chain latched around her neck and hooked up to a pole that jutted from the floor to the roof against her back. On either side of the unit, Operetta and Johnny could see empty pairs of chains and cuffs hanging on the opposite walls.

“Oh mah gawd!” Operetta exclaimed, “Meowlody, Purrsephone!”

Meowlody stopped crying and glanced up at them, her eyes full of fear and red from crying as she stared up from over the top of Purrsephone’s head. Her snow white hair was discolored a dingy gray-red from dirt and blood and gods knew what else.

“O-O-Operetta?” she squeaked, shaking like a leaf, “I-I-Is that you?”

She was as thin as a rail, with dozens upon dozens of cuts and gashes carved into both her legs. Her broken tail hung limp over her knee. Operetta could see her ribs poking out against her skin and a big gash over her left breast, as well as a mess of wounds on her left hip and thigh.

Neither her or Johnny could respond right away as they just stared at the werecat, flabbergasted. Then Operetta noticed there was a bunch of flies circling around the sisters and as she got another waft of the horrific smell permeating from the unit, she glanced down at Purrsephone and realized that she wasn’t moving at all.

“Oh...oh, Meowlody,” she whispered, devastated at the realization.

Meowlody’s lip quivered, “P-Please, please, s-she’s sick, s-s-s-she needs help! Please, I-I wanna go home!”

Johnny’s face softened. He walked into the unit towards her, shrugging off his jacket as he did so.

“There, there, darlin’, it’s all right, help is on the way,” he said softly as he knelt down and draped his jacket across her body. Meowlody mewled and whimpered like a kitten as he did so.

Operetta swallowed hard, watching as he looked around the unit, trying to find something to cut Meowlody’s chain with. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of green, before Vandala suddenly appeared next to her.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Vandala asked, “Aye heard the hollerin’ from all the way over by the-”

She stopped as her eyes landed upon the twins. Her hands flew up to her mouth. “O-Oh me stars...”

“Vandala,” Operetta said, not taking her eyes off them as she put a hand on the pirate ghost’s arm, “Go, g-g-go dial 911-”

“_Oh good Lord!” _Porter suddenly shouted.

Operetta and Vandala whirled around to face the small building. Twyla and the others paused in their task of undoing Gigi’s restraints to stare in its direction. Even Gigi, who was now wrapped up in Kiyomi’s coat, leaned out from behind Spectra’s shoulder to stare.

They all jumped as the front door of the building burst open and Porter scrambled out, his hand pressed to his mouth. He floated away to the bottom of the stairs before he doubled over, his hands pressed to his stomach as he vomited ectoplasm. Sirena came up to him from around the car, her hands raised in alarm.

“Porter? What is it? What happened?” Kiyomi asked, floating forward in front of the girls, “What did you see?”

Porter stood up straight and panted. Even for a poltergeist, he looked pale and shaken as he wiped his mouth and stared at them. His pupils were the size of mere needle points.

“I...I-I think I found the owner,” he rasped out, “In...i-i-in the office.”

The inference was clear. Everyone gasped in horror. They all looked at each other; there was a newfound feeling amongst the storage unit- the feeling of despair weighed heavy upon all of them.

“I’m going to call the police,” Sirena exclaimed, floating towards the car as she pulled out her cellphone.

“Y’all, come on!” Operetta exclaimed, rushing over to the storage unit next to the one Meowlody and Purrsephone were in, “Let’s get these open! There ain’t no telling how many of the others are still here!”

Everyone snapped into action. Kiyomi and Jane guided Gigi out of the storage unit and towards the car to get her warm, while Johnny found a saw and started hacking away at the chain that held Meowlody to the pole. Meowlody didn’t react and just remained lying on the floor, hugging Purrsephone tightly to her as she trembled under his jacket. Operetta and the others went about flinging other units open, determined to locate every one of their missing friends.

* * *

Holt’s eyes widened as he listened to the doctor’s revelation. His hand flew to his mouth to smother the gasp that was about to escape his lips, not wanting to reveal himself to the others inside.

So the living nightmare finally had a name. Allegedly. According to Jane’s stepfather, the man had been dead for a long time and had never even left the hellish island where the infamous events of the Wells novel had taken place.

“_What?” _he heard one of the detectives exclaim, “_But the witness sketch IS him, right?” _

“_It is,” _Dr. Moreau replied, “_But I...I don’t know how it could be. I saw him die, I was there when Pendrick burnt the corpse afterward. He’d already been dead for a year by the time me and the others even left the island for ourselves! For him to be here, over a century later, it’s...” _

He made a sound of disbelief, “_ It’s fucking impossible, if I do say so myself. _ _ I have...I don’t know how this can happen.” _

“_...Except,” _ Holt heard a woman speak up, “ _ It does make sense in a way. After all, wasn’t one of our biggest sources of confusion the fact that the killer doesn’t have a scent so we can’t track him? And considering ghosts also don’t have scents...” _

“_He can also shadow travel and make himself solid when he wants and suddenly become transparent again and seemingly everything fucking else under the sun,” _ Dr. Moreau said in frustration, “ _ Just, fuck! I don’t even know what the hell we’re missing by this point!” _

However, Holt heard him pause for a second, before he spoke up a moment later.

“_ Unless...” _ he said, “ _ Unless he’s using something to _ _ change his form. Make himself _ _ **not ** _ _ a ghost at times.” _

“_ Does such a thing exist?” _

“_I’m sure there is,” _ Holt heard him reply, “ _ I can’t think of the exact idea, but I swear, it’s right on the tip of my tongue. I’m sure I remember reading somewhere about this substance certain monsters use- it’s not permanent shapeshifting, but something else...something that grants them a temporary change of their species...” _

At that, Holt frowned.

That _ did _sound familiar, he thought. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it either, but for some reason, he felt like he had heard of something similar to what the doctor described somewhere. Where had he heard of such a thing before?

He was momentarily distracted from the conversation by a buzz in his pocket. Holt looked down and grabbed for his phone. It was a text from Frankie

_ I won’t be able to get on chat right away, _ it said, _ Gotta help Mr. Amerou with some things. Taking longer than expected. Will try to be on as soon as I get home. Sorry, luv u <3 _

It was followed up with a kissy-face emoji. Holt quickly turned the ringer off and just responded with an ‘Ok’ and a heart emoji, not wanting to miss anything that was being discussed in the room. He slid his phone back into his pocket and turned his attention back to the conversation in the room.

He shuffled closer to the door and leaned his head in just the slightest bit so he could peak in.

At that moment, he saw a cyborg in business casual stand up and hold up a picture. It looked to be an artist’s sketch, the kind that was created by witnesses to get a visual of the physical appearance of someone they had seen committing a crime.

“_ ...And _ _ if he’s managed to get his hands on this substance you talk about,” _ the cyborg said, “ _ Then he change whenever he wants, grab the kid he feels like hurting, and steal away like a thief in the night without anyone suspecting a thing.” _

He tapped the picture for emphasis. Holt’s eyes landed on it, seeing that it portrayed some sort of animal man who had a dark mouth and spots randomly placed on his body.

He froze.

“No...” he whispered, recognizing the man in the picture. He glanced back down at pulled out his phone, re-reading Frankie’s text to him.

_ Gotta help Mr. Amerou with some things, _it said.

Holt felt his heart freeze and tighten up, like someone had it in a death grip and was squeezing the life out of it. His throat closed up; it was painful to breathe.

The keycard dropped from his hand and clattered onto the floor. Holt didn’t notice.

His sneaker made a sharp squealing noise as he turned on his heel and bolted from the spot, his feet slamming on the tile as he blindly ran down the hallway out and out the front entrance of the building. Officers and other employees dodged him, turning to stare at the teenager with confusion at his behavior.

“FRANKIE!” Holt screamed as he ran for his car.

* * *

Dr. Moreau and the rest of the detectives turned their heads at the sudden noise that erupted from outside the room. They could hear someone pounding down the hall, before someone from far away let out an ear splitting shriek. Grindylow and Firth shared a glance; Firth got up from his chair and made his way to the door to investigate.

He opened it and peaked out, looking back and forth on either side of the hall. He shook his head at them as he closed the door.

“Nobody there,” he commented.

Grindylow shrugged, “Just some kid who probably got lost.”

All of a sudden, from the outside, they heard someone shout, “CHIEF! CHIEF!”

Firth stumbled back as the door suddenly flung back open. One of the people in Grindylow’s unit, a simulacrum, stuck her head, her hang hanging wildly in her face as she gaped at him with shock.

“Chief! Just a got a call! Group of teens found a few girls being kept hostage in a storage facility off I-16,” she explained frantically, “Dispatchers said they claimed two of them are among the missing teens!”

Grindylow’s eyes widened. He shot up from his seat. “What?!”

The simulacrum nodded and stood up. “A third girl- Gigi Grant- was found among them,” she added, “Her father had just completed a missing persons report for her _ tonight.” _

Grindylow stared at her, stupefied by the revelation. He glanced at Firth; the cyborg stared back at him, equally shocked by the answer.

There was no time for them to process it, though. Right away, Grindylow felt himself go into hyperdrive as his professional mode took over. His gaze became determined. He looked between Firth, Vitae, and Dr. Moreau sternly.

“Get all units on the scene,” he ordered, gathering up his phone and files, “I want all medics and emergency response on standby. There’s no telling what we’re walking into right now.”

* * *

(_ An hour earlier…) _

Frankie stood in front of Mr. Amerou’s house and rang the doorbell. She stepped back, awaiting for him to come to the door. She held her schoolbag in both hands so it lightly banged against her knees and shivered as she felt a strong gust blow in from her right. She snuggled into her scarf and the collar of her jacket, eager to get out of the chilly air.

She looked around at the rest of the neighborhood. The few remaining plants in people’s gardens that had yet to be killed off by the harsh cold of winter swayed wildly in the wind. It was barely seven, but the inky blackness of the sky and the way the that streetlights washed out any natural light made it feel like it was almost midnight. It was a bit creepy to look at.

She turned back to the front door. Still no response from Mr. Amerou. She could vaguely hear him shuffling around inside, but there was no indication of him coming closer.

Confused, Frankie rang it again. This time, she also accompanied it with a knock on the front door.

“Please hurry,” she commented under her breath, wincing as another harsh gust of wind hit her. She reached up and pulled her knit hat further down over her ears to keep them from freezing.

“_ Just a second!” _she heard Mr. Amerou shout from within. Frankie could hear the house rattling as he walked down to the front level, before she could see his shadow appear on the wall from the window.

Mr. Amerou pulled the door open and smiled at her appearance. “Aw, Frankie, hello again,” he greeted, “How are you?”

“Cold,” Frankie answered with a smile as she stepped in. She gave another shiver as the warmth of the house immediately wrapped her in a toasty embrace, a welcoming contrast from the arctic chill of the night outside.

Mr. Amerou smiled, “I can imagine. Here, let me take your coat for you,”

“Thank you,” Frankie said, allowing him to tug it off and take it and her bag. As she handed them over, she glanced down at his hands.

She paused for a second, noticing how both, including his wrists, were tightly bound in ace bandages. Along with them, his ring and pinkie finger of his left hand were bound in medical tape, as was his right thumb.

“What happened to your hands?” she asked.

Mr. Amerou glanced down at them, before he gave a small shrug. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said dismissively, “Just hurt myself at work when I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you okay?” Frankie insisted with concern. Mr. Amerou just waved her off.

“I’m fine,” he said, “Just clumsy old me, you know? I’ll be off work for the next few days, but it’s nothing more than a few cuts. Really, the bandages make it look worse than it really is.”

He hung up her coat and put her bag by the small bench by the window, before he gestured to upstairs.

“Shall we?” he asked. Frankie nodded and allowed him to guide her upstairs to the office, which was now fully painted. On the floor, a giant box that had the picture of a bookshelf sat in the middle of the room.

“I know it’s a schoolnight and the first day of the week, so I tried to make your workload rather easy this time,” he said, “I just want to have this shelf ready and in place before we move all the furniture back in.”

“Sounds good,” Frankie said with a smile. She clasped her hands together. “Looks like it will be fun.”

Mr. Amerou smirked, “That’s the spirit.”

They quickly set about to opening the box and removing all the parts and bags of screws, before Mr. Amerou laid out the instructions on the floor and they set about putting the shelf together.

“I really appreciate that you’re still willing to come out here and help, Frankie,” Mr. Amerou said as they set up the walls that would make up the base of the shelf, “I know with the curfew and everything that’s been going on, it can be hard to want to even get out of the house, so I hope you know it does mean a lot.”

Frankie smiled, feeling her cheeks heat up with a slight blush. She replied, “To be honest, I’m glad I can come here. I haven’t been going out since the curfew, and it honestly drives me bonkers staying in the house all day.”

She gave him a coy smirk, “Still being able to make some money also doesn’t hurt things.”

That earned her a laugh from Mr. Amerou. “I bet it does!”

He looked down and gestured with his chin to something by her knee. “Do you think you could hand me that nosing board?”

“Sure,” Frankie said, reaching down to grab it. As Mr. Amerou stretched across the base board to grab it, she noticed his sleeve ride up a little past his elbow.

“What’s that on your arm?” she asked.

Mr. Amerou paused. He tilted his head at her, confused. Frankie pointed to his right arm.

“There’s something black on your arm,” she clarified.

Mr. Amerou leaned to the right to look at where she was pointing. Just up above his elbow, a large section of his upper arm was covered in some kind of jet black material. As he saw it, his eyes widened.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, quickly yanking down his sleeve, “Oh, don’t mind that! That’s just, um, a bad reaction I had to some paint. Nothing serious.”

Frankie raised a brow. She’d never heard of an allergic reaction causing your skin to turn black (nothing that wasn’t severe or lethal, that was). “Oh. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Mr. Amerou said. He quickly changed the subject as he turned his attention back to the nosing board in his hand and place it along the back side of the shelf base. “Do you think you could hand me those screws?”

They made light conversation as they put to the shelf together which helped to pass the time by. Then, as Mr. Amerou was about to add in the wood screws to the top of the shelf, they heard his phone ring from downstairs.

“Aw, dammit,” he growled, dropping the screwdriver at his side, “I swear, that thing’s been ringing off the hook the last few days.”

He looked at Frankie. “Do you think you could finish this up? Or would you feel more comfortable waiting?”

“I can do it,” Frankie replied. She joked, “These sutures are stronger than look...when they want to be.”

Mr. Amerou chuckled and held his hands up. “Okay. Just please don’t let me come back and find you crushed under its weight, cuz I don’t think your dad will like that from me.”

Frankie giggled as he left. She grabbed the screwdriver from where he had left it on the ground and went back to putting the final touches on the bookshelf. Before she did, though, she pulled out her phone to check the time.

Her eyes widened as she saw it was already ten past eight- over an hour had already passed since she arrived. Both her parents had to work late tonight, and feeling increasingly uncomfortable leaving her and Alivia by themselves, they had arranged for Draculaura’s family to house them until they got home. Frankie had been picked up shortly after dinner and finishing her homework. By this point, Alivia and Fangelica were probably already asleep by now. She told Laura Mr. Amerou would drop her off at around 8:15.

Frankie bit her lip, considering her choices, before she shrugged it off and just opened up her messages. She told Laura to let her dad know that she’d lost track of the time and would be a few minutes later than she had initially said, before she sent Holt another message that she’d be late getting onto messenger so they could video chat.

_ It’s no big deal, _ she thought, _ Mr. D’s met Mr. Amerou, he knows nothing bad will happen while I’m here. _

She grabbed a wood nail from the baggie that they’d come in and set it on the corner of the outside of the top shelf, lining it up with the little dots Mr. Amerou had made in marker to keep the spacing between the nails consistent. She pounded the edge of the nail in with the hammer, before she used the screw driver to twist it in the rest of the way into the hanging strip.

She went to reach for another one. The bag was kept on top of the box that the shelf had come in. As she reached for it, Frankie became distracted as she heard her phone ping with a response from Draculaura. In her distraction, she accidentally ended up knocking the bag over, causing it to fall off the box and land on the ground. A few nails fell out and scattered across the floor; one of them swiveled across the wood and disappeared under the gap between the floor and the door of the closet.

“Uh oh,” Frankie said. She left the text unanswered and reached over the box to grab the bag, before she stood up to pick up the nails one by one.

She looked towards the closet as she saw a small gleam coming from under the closet. Frankie lifted her head to see the head of the nail reflecting the light as it rested a few inches under the door.

Standing up straight, Frankie walked over to the closet. Not willing to open up the closet and risk seeing Mr. Amerou’s private things, she slid her hand under the door and felt for the nail.

Instead of feeling that, though, her hand slipped over something that was big and ribbed, like it had parts cut out of it. Frankie frowned in confusion. Grasping it between her fingers, she pulled it out and held it up in front of her.

In her hand was a plastic earring in the shape of a spiderweb. It was made of white acrylic, with a large glittery black spider glued into the middle of it. The spider’s abdomen was decorated with purple rhinestones.

Frankie furrowed her brows. “Weird,” she muttered, “This looks like one of the earrings Wydowna owns.”

She stood up, still looking at the earring, when she heard Mr. Amerou let out a sharp hiss from downstairs.

“_ Fuck,” _the old cryptid cursed.

There was some sort of whooshing sound, before the downstairs suddenly became silent, save for the sounds of the TV playing in the living room.

Frankie paused. She looked towards the door. She called out, “Mr. Amerou?”

Nothing. Frankie slowly made her way towards the door. She poked her head out, listening for him. She couldn’t hear anything except the TV.

_ Did he go outside? _She thought as she stepped out the room and walked downstairs. She made it to the last step and looked out at the living room. The TV was on commercials, but no sign of Mr. Amerou. She glanced at the front door. It was locked.

“Mr. Amerou?” Frankie called out again as she made her way to the living room. She looked down at the coffee table.

Strangely, Mr. Amerou’s phone rested on an old book. Its screen was lit up, allowing her to see that he had a missed call. There was also a window from an app displayed under it, which seemed to be from a news bulletin.

Frankie bent down to read it better, catching the words _ BREAKING NEWS _on the bubble. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as it partially obscured her view.

_ BREAKING NEWS, _ the bubble read, _ REMAINS, VICTIMS UNCOVERED AT STORAGE SITE _

The TV screen displayed the logo of the evening news, before it transitioned to pan in on an alligator cryptid who was dressed in a suit and sat at a blue desk.

“_Good evening, if you are just tuning in, we have just gotten word that New Salem police have just uncovered what is looking to be a holding ground and mass kidnapping operation at a storage facility just a few miles near Keizer,” _ the anchorman reported, “ _ Just half an hour ago, we got word that police responded to a call reporting of citizens being found locked up and imprisoned in several storage units. _

“_Police and paramedics are still raiding the facility, and we have yet to receive word if any of the survivors or victims uncovered are connected to the recent string of kidnapped students from Monster High School, but we will post updates as the hour progresses. We have been told several monster remains have been uncovered at the same site...” _

Frankie’s eyes widened as the screen changed to show one of the reporters on site at the scene of the crime. Behind her, Frankie could see a series of storage units that had their doors pulled open, with police officers darting in and out of them. Just out of view of the camera, she could see red, blue, and white lights flashing from what was bound to be from ambulances and police cruisers. A sudden chill went through her.

“M-M-Mr. Amerou?” she called again, over her shoulder. She didn’t take her eyes off the news at first.

When the older cryptid still failed to respond, she finally turned around to face the kitchen. The back door was locked as well. Mr. Amerou’s work things remained undisturbed on the counter.

“Where the hell did he go?” she asked herself as she started in that direction.

She only made it a few feet, however, before she suddenly let out a cry of alarm as she felt her wrist get violently tugged backward. Frankie tripped and nearly lost her balance. Beside her was a small shelf that contained a few books and decorative items; Frankie heard something inside it clatter and break.

She looked behind her. The seam of her wrist had caught onto the corner of the shelf and had come loose. Frowning, Frankie pulled it free and held her hand to her chest as she glanced at the small doors that rested on either side of the shelf. She knew she hadn’t been imaging that breaking noise.

_ I shouldn’t look, though, _ she thought, _ It’s not right to snoop. _

But would it be snooping, though, if she had accidentally broke something within? It seemed mean to know she probably damaged one of his belongings and didn’t bring it up to him.

Biting her lip, Frankie glanced around. Mr. Amerou was starting to freak her out; he had just disappeared and she couldn’t find him. She would’ve heard the front door or back door open if he stepped out, and his phone was still here. The bathroom door was open and it was dark within.

Deciding to just take a look, Frankie knelt down to the door where she heard the breaking occur and opened it up.

Inside, a glass bottle lay tilted over on its side, its contents pouring out from its broken neck as it lay in two. There was also a large crack in the side that faced up. Fine, bright pink sand spilled out underneath it, forming a small little mound from where it built up at the broken neck. It was oddly shaped, the bottom being a pyramid shape while the neck was long and thin like a test tube.

Frankie frowned in puzzlement at the sight of the contents.

“Boogie sand?” she said aloud, “What’s Mr. Amerou doing with this?”

She didn’t know anything about the laws when it came to boogeymen business or the devices they used to haunt dreams, but wasn’t boogie sand supposed to be restricted to...well, boogeymen?

She was about to reach for some of the sand with her free hand, only to see she was still grasping the spiderweb earring she had found under the closet. Frankie glanced between it and the boogie sand, still confused at the strange discoveries.

_ The clues may be a little more obvious than you think, _Van Hellscream’s words suddenly echoed in her mind.

Frankie froze. She grasped the earring tighter as she looked back at it. The rhinestone abdomen sparkled in the light coming from the living room.

“Wydowna...has earrings just like this...” she repeated in a mumble.

Earrings like Wydowna...the strange black mark on Mr. Amerou’s arm...boogie sand, which could be used to change someone into a different monster…

A monster who, perhaps, could use shadow traveling to cover large distances and be solid enough to tear a screaming ghoul’s throat out, all the while walking through walls and also having objects fly right through them as if they were merely a hologram.

Van Hellscream’s departing words came back to her. _ Sometimes you just got to keep an eye out on the little things; the answer is often in plain sight. _

Frankie’s eyes widened with a horrifying realization. A new type of cold came over her. She suddenly felt very small in this big house.

She glanced around at the ceiling fearfully. Save for the background noise of the TV, everything else was wrapped up in deathly, suffocating silence.

Mr. Amerou couldn’t be...could he?

She looked towards the direction of the stairs, thinking back to how she’d found the earring under the closet door in the office. She hadn’t actually opened it to retrieve the nail, thinking doing so would be a violation of Mr. Amerou’s privacy.

Frankie swallowed. She stood up and slid the earring into her pocket, before she closed the door of the shelf.

Ignoring every instinct that told her to run out the front door and put as much distance as she could between her and this house as quickly as possible, Frankie turned back to the stairs.

Maybe there’d be nothing in the closet. Maybe it contained something that she’d be better off never knowing about.

There was only way to find out.

Slowly, every creak of the steps sounding amplified and echoed like they were trying to alert Mr. Amerou to her location, Frankie slowly climbed the stairs and made her way back to the office where they’d been working on the shelf, intent on seeing whatever lay on the other side of the closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I've never read The Island of Dr. Moreau, so I decided to splice elements from the book's summary with those of the 1996 film adaptation, which is the version I'm most familiar with.


	19. Chapter 18: Veil Lifted

The halls of New Salem General were loud and filled to the brim with people as doctors and nurses alike shuffled back and forth in the hallways, a sight that was quite uncommon for a Wednesday night. Normally, such big crowds wouldn’t be allowed at this hour, since visiting hours had long since ended at eight, but right now, nobody was going to leave until they got answers. The staff, seeing the situation at hand, wouldn’t have tried to stop them, understanding why they were here.

In her room, Scarah watched said people through the doorway. She sat up in her bed, a paperback novel open on her lap unread. She had been thinking to do some reading before she went to sleep- the pain in her neck had kept her up for most of the night before- but about an hour and a half ago suddenly there was a commotion and the hospital seemed to just fill with people.

_What the bloody ‘ell is goin’ on? _ She thought, seeing a few police officers go back and forth with the nurses. 

She would’ve called a nurse for help, but many of them looked to preoccupied to be stopped right now...that, and her now-noticeable lack of a larynx would’ve made getting their attention difficult.

Her head suddenly lifted as two figures suddenly appeared outside her door, one with a familiar head of bright scarlet hair and the other wearing a leather jacket. They were ghostly in nature and appeared to be in the middle of a heated conversation.

“_Johnny! Operetta!” _she called out to them using her telepathy, _“Over ‘ere!” _

Both ghosts turned their head in her direction. She waved them over, showing where she was. Operetta turned on the heel of her saddle shoes and hurried into the room, Johnny floating in right behind her.

“Hey! You’re still awake,” Operetta said, feigning a smile as she approached the banshee’s bedside, “Ah thought ya would’ve been all tuckered out by now.”

Scarah ignored this comment. “_What’s going on?” _she asked, putting a hand to her temple, “_What’s with you guys and all these people being here?” _

It was then she noticed they both look considerably disheveled. Operetta’s winter coat was wrinkled and Johnny’s jacket was stained in several places as he held it under his arm; both of them also had deep circles under their eyes, like they had been up all night.

“_And what’s leading on witcha two?” _Scarah asked, “Yer both look loike you’ve finally seen the reaper.”

Operetta and Johnny exchanged a look. Johnny’s wide lips tightened into a deep frown. Operetta was the one to address her. She took Scarah’s hand in her own and squeezed it tight. Her hands were encased in a pair of gloves.

“It’s a long story, but...” she swallowed hard, “We found ‘em, Scarah. We...we _found _everyone.”

“Every...” Scarah repeated, initially confused. Then, she made the realization and her blank white eyes widened in shock.

“_A-Are ye sure, Retta?” _she asked, “_How do ye know?” _

Operetta told her the story of their meeting with Twyla and how her and Jane had ended up making connection between the killer and the stolen boogie sand that had been taken from Twyla’s house. As she listened, Scarah felt her mouth drop open as the details all came together.

“_Janey mack!” _she exclaimed, “_And all of them were found in that facility?” _

Operetta nodded, “The cops wanted us to leave after we gave our statement- said somethin’ ‘bout how it was a crime scene and all and we were now trespassin’ and all that- but we all made it clear we weren’t goin’ anywhere ‘till everyone was accounted for.”

She looked back out at the hallway, where a nurse rushed past with her arms full of IV bags. “We’ve been here for ‘bout an hour or so followin’ behind the ambulances.”

Scarah looked between them, “_H-How...how are they all? Everyone who was found? Was it...bad?” _

Johnny scoffed, crossing his arms as he looked out the window. He answered, “More like we just walked out the set of a fuckin’ horror movie with an NC-17 rating.”

The girls looked at him, but he didn’t acknowledge either as he stared off, shaking his head in thought at the memory of what they uncovered in those units and what else they’d seen once the police and EMTs had arrived.

The night wasn’t even over, but he already knew that the sight of Meowlody screaming and breaking down as the paramedics forced her to let go of Purrsephone’s body was something that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Operetta sensed his distress and slid her arms around his waist in a sideways hug to comfort him. Johnny uncrossed his arms and put one around her back to return it. Scarah watched them for a second, before she turned back to the doorway.

“_I’m guessing all these visitors are everyone’s families?” _she asked.

“Yep,” Operetta sighed, “Spectra posted a bulletin on the Ghostly Gossip and called everyone who was close to each student. Ah told her that she should wait until the cops could officially account for everyone, but...ah think we’re all tired of waitin’ around.”

Scarah nodded in understanding. Outside, she could hear several commotions going on- most likely angry and distressed parents questioning nurses and cops about where their children were, while the poor flustered workers tried to tell them they didn’t know the key details yet.

A pair of paramedics suddenly walked by with an empty stretcher. The sheets beneath it were bloodstained.

Out of nowhere, a sense of foreboding bloomed in her stomach like a poisonous flower. A prickly feeling worked its way up her spine that made her pale blue-green skin break out in goosebumps. Her eyes suddenly swam with tears. An unpleasant tingle arose in the back of her mind.

Scarah felt herself stiffen with dread. She’d only experienced this feeling a few times in her life- it was something that was more frequent with older banshees, once they became proficient in telling prophecies- but it was something that came as instinct, a side effect of her species’s tragic visionary nature.

“_O-Operetta,” _she spoke up, looking at the phantom, “_E-Everyone who was found...__were they...a-are they going to be okay?” _

They turned to look at her. Operetta stared at her, not answering, but the way her expression crumbled and her violet eyes became wide was enough of answer. Beside her, Johnny’s jaw tightened, like he was trying not to remember what he’d seen.

“_Oh, good gods,” _Scarah muttered. Her hand flew to her chest in shock as the weight of the situation settled on all of them.

There was so much going on at once, but if there was one thing that was clear, it was that they would never be the same again after this night.

* * *

“Twyla!”

At the sound of her name, Twyla looked away from where she was watching the staff move about to look in the opposite direction down the hall. Jane, Billy, and Spectra, who were all sitting with her, turned their heads at the sound of the voice as well. Spectra’s hands paused from where they had been rapidly typing away on her tablet.

Howleen and Clawdeen raced towards them. Twyla got out of her seat to greet them; Howleen met her first and gripped her shoulders tightly and looked her in the eyes.

“Is it true?” Howleen questioned, glancing briefly behind her at the crowd at the other end, recognizing a few of the parents, “Are you okay, you guys didn’t get hurt at all, did you?”

Twyla shook her head and took her hands. Her claws had been digging into her shoulders. “We’re fine,” she replied, “Nobody was there when we arrived.”

Howleen looked back at her. She swallowed hard. “Does...d-does that mean Gigi and them…?”

“She’s okay,” Twyla reassured, “She’s a bit shaken up, but she’s not hurt. It doesn’t look like he’d gotten to hurt yet when we found all them.”

Howleen closed her eyes and gave a heavy sigh of relief. When she opened them, they were shiny like she was about to cry.

“T-T-That’s good,” she said, “I-I was so worried. Her dad said he couldn’t get a hold of her a-and then I called Rider, and he said _he _couldn’t get a hold of her, and I just thought...”

She trailed off and pulled her hands away to wipe at her eyes. Behind her, Clawdeen looked over at the rooms, her hands clutched to her chest like a worried mother as the staff moved in between the rooms. Twyla had a faint idea she was thinking of Romulus; she hadn’t missed the looks they’d given each other through the last couple of months.

“We came as soon as Spectra posted her update,” Clawdeen said as she turned their attention back them, “Have they said where they’ve taken the others?”

Spectra shook her head, “We stayed at the scene until the last few units were opened. By the time we got here, they had everyone spread out to different floors based on their injuries. I know Vandala and Sirena headed to keep an eye on Lagoona, but we thought to stay out of everyone’s way until it was the all-clear.”

They turned as they suddenly heard wheels squeaking on the tile and a familiar voice going “Sorry, sorry, sorry, excuse me!”. A second later, Rider appeared around the corner; he nearly fell right out of his chair as he almost collided with a doctor who was on the same path as him.

“Sorry,” Rider said as he eased his chair back to allow the doctor to pass by. He stopped again as he saw the group of them standing around. Rider looked between all of them, his face tight with worry.

“Where’s Gigi?” he asked.

Twyla shook her head. “We haven’t gotten the chance to ask yet. She might still be-”

At that moment, the elevator a few feet away from them opened up. Gigi and her dad stepped out, walking in sync as he held her tightly to his side under his arm. Gigi was now dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and she’d been given a pair of worn sneakers. Her hair had been brushed back and wrapped up in a messy bun.

Howleen gasped as they turned towards them. “Gigi!”

Gigi lifted her head at the sound of her name. Her bright blue eyes widened at the sight of her friends. She pulled away from her head and ran towards them.

“Rider! Leena!”

Rider wheeled himself towards her as she threw herself at him and caught her in his embrace. He set the brakes on his chair to keep it from wheeling backwards from the force that she fell into him and held her tightly as she curled up beside his chair.

“I’m here, baby, I’m here,” he said softly as she wept into his shoulder, gently petting her hair. He pulled her away enough to kiss her forehead.

“I was so scared,” Gigi mumbled in a cracked voice, “I just remember blacking out and when I woke up, i-it was so dark and cold a-a-and I couldn’t get free...”

“Shhh, it’s over now,” Rider assured her, “He won’t ever put a hand on you again.”

Howleen quietly approached them and bent down to hug Gigi from behind. The genie pulled away from Rider and turned to return it in full. Clawdeen and the others watched, Clawdeen sighing in relief at the sight that Gigi was okay.

Twyla turned as she felt a large hand on her shoulder. Gigi’s father stood over her, his bearded face heavily lined as he gave her a grateful smile and looked down at her like she was some sort of guardian angel.

“Thank you _so _much, Twyla,” he said, bending down to hug her before she could say anything, “Thank all of you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if they couldn’t find her.”

He looked like he was suddenly on the verge of tears as he pulled Twyla against him and hugged her tightly. Twyla grunted at the strength of his hug- she felt like a tube of toothpaste being squeezed to get all its contents out- but simply patted him on the back, knowing that the scorpion-like man was simply very emotional and needed to get it all out.

“Excuse me, is one of you Twyla Boogeyman?”

Mr. Grant loosened his hold. Twyla pulled away to see a group of men standing a few feet behind Rider and Gigi. A green freshwater monster stood in the middle at the front, while to his left stood a cyborg with blonde hair and vibrant purple eyes and at his right was a lion hybrid monster.

The lion hybrid looked towards Jane’s direction and his eyes widened in recognition.

“Janey?” he stated, stepping forward, “What are you doing here?!”

Jane stood up from her seat. “Dr. Moreau!” she exclaimed, “I-I can explain-”

You kids were the ones found all the missing kids in that storage unit facility, right?” the bog monster asked, interrupting Jane as he raised a brow at Twyla.

Twyla nodded and approached him to face him. “Yes, sir.”

He gave Twyla another look, before he glanced over her shoulder and noticed Billy and Spectra sitting there; he recognized Billy- the kid’s injuries looked like they had all healed, though now he had a gnarly looking scar on his cheek- and it was then that he noticed Gigi kneeling down, her and Rider still hugging each other. He gave them a nod.

“That was quite a discover you all made, Twyla,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets, “Would you mind telling us how you guys ended up there?

“It’s quite unusual for a group of teens like yourselves to be out at a random storage facility at nearly eight at night and just happen to stumble upon a crime scene,” he added.

“That...that would be because of me,” Jane spoke up, “I-I was the one who told them where to go.”

Dr. Moreau’s gaze turned sharply to his stepdaughter. “What?!”

“I’m sorry, I thought about telling you!” Jane exclaimed, “I-It was just a hunch I had so I wanted to get a second opinion a-and you were so busy I thought that...I-I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

Dr. Moreau just tilted his head at her, perplexed. The detectives glanced at one another, confused. Realizing that Jane was too flustered to probably explain everything in a way that made sense, Twyla walked over to her and took her hand. She gave it a brief squeeze to reassure the purple-haired girl and turned her attention back to the detectives, her purple-pink eyes slightly stern.

“Jane came to talk to me a few days ago,” she started to explain to the bog monster detective, “We discovered something about the killer that you really should know...”

* * *

n the other side of town, a dim white 2012 model Toyota Avalon sped along on the roads leading through town, running red lights and cutting cars off at intersections as it drove at a pace that was clearly miles above the legal limit. Other cars honked their horns at it and the drivers gave it the finger as they were forced to slam on their breaks to avoid getting into a collision with it.

Behind the wheel, Holt ignored all the curses and crude gestures. He kept his gaze strictly ahead of him as he pressed his foot against the gas, increasing his speed even more and making his car nearly fly along the road. He turned the wheel with stiff hands; every turn was sharp and a few times he nearly lost control, but he barely noticed as he made all the turns necessary to get to the place he had in mind.

He wore an uncharacteristic expression of terror on his features, with his skin pale and his eyes wide, like he had just seen death itself. He was hunched over in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable for his back, like if he leaned forward it would somehow make the car go even faster.

“I’m coming, baby, I’m coming,” he muttered under his breath in a panicked voice, “Just hang on, I’m almost there.”

Everything passed by in a blur as he drove. Right now, all he could focus on was getting to the house that Frankie was still at and getting her out of there as soon as possible.

And if that bastard had lay even a finger on her, Holt would the flesh right off his bones there on the spot.

He approached an intersection where the light for his direction was already at the yellow. Going north and south, cars were already beginning to roll forward past the barrier as they awaited for their lights to turn green.

Holt slammed on the gas and shot through the intersection right as the bottom light flipped to bright red. The drivers who were given the right-of-way immediately stopped as he flew past them.

“_Pay attention to the fucking light, jackass!” _a werecat yelled from his rolled down window.

Holt didn’t hear them. He stayed focused on getting to Frankie.

“I’m almost there, almost there, almost there...” he told himself, trying not to dwell on whatever hell his love could be going through right now if the son of a bitch behind this all made his move on her tonight.

* * *

With only the news playing in the background, it quickly occurred to Frankie how deathly quiet the rest of the house was. It made every little noise she made sound amplified, like it was being blasted by a pair of speakers played right next to her ears.

Her hands felt clammy with sweat; Frankie balled them into fists, trying to keep them from shaking. Her feet felt like they were encased in concrete. Every single part of her was trying to hold her back, keep her from going further, but the innate morbid sense of curiosity got the better of her.

She took a deep breath. It came out rattled and shallow.

It had have been only a few seconds, if not minutes, but her fear and dread made the climb back up the stairs feel like hours. Finally, though, she managed to reach the top step. Mr. Amerou’s office lay to the left, where the top banister was. The door remained ajar like she had left it and spilled light into the hallway. The bathroom also remain open, allowing her to see her frightened reflection in its mirror from where it was directly across the hall. The rest of the rooms remained shut.

Frankie didn’t go to the office right away. Instead, she hesitated and looked to her right, across from the office, where the guest room that she had helped him complete lay. She’d been in that room plenty of times while they were working on it and had seen nothing out of the ordinary while they did so.

Gods knew what kinds of things were in there now that it was done.

Next to the bathroom was the master bedroom. Frankie paused for a second and strained to listen for any other noise. It was hard to hear with the TV still on. Still, though, she failed to hear any sign that Mr. Amerou was back in the house...if he had ever left.

_Don’t think like that, _ she told herself,  _You’ll only freak yourself out and then that will completely screw up your concentration. _

Even so, she couldn’t stop the rapid racing of her heart as she forced herself to turn to the left and slowly stepped back into the office.

Things were unchanged since she left. The bookshelf remained halfway put together, with the baggie of nails still left by the door of the closet.

As she slowly approached the door, the doubtful part of her mind came back to her, trying to stall her from looking in, knowing that deep down, she didn’t want to.

_It could be just a coincidence, _ it tried to tell her,  _Maybe he just likes doing certain activities in his private time and doesn’t want people to know. You understand that perfectly well. As for the boogie sand? Maybe he’s keeping it for someone, or it’s part of his job. Maybe it was a gift and he doesn’t know what to do with it. _

Deep in her gut, though, Frankie knew that Van Hellscream’s words rang true.

She reached into her pocket and felt the plastic spiderweb earring. With her other hand, she reached for the doorknob of the closet. Her hand was shaking violently.

Silently, she turned the knob. Then, stumbling back in case anything came falling out, she yanked the door open.

It was a decent sized closet space. Probably about four by four feet, with a light and two coat racks lining one wall and a built in shelf lining the top of the far and right wall.

Boxes upon boxes filled the closet. They were all open, allowing Frankie to see they were stuffed with clothes. They hadn’t been put in any kind of effort or organization and looked more like they had just been thrown in at last minute, so wrinkled shirt sleeves and pant legs and socks spilled out from over the edges. Various types of shoes also littered the floor: heels, sneakers, boots, all of them different colors and sizes.

Frankie turned on the light, allowing her to see the contents better. She looked down as the illumination caused something on the floor in front of her to twinkle.

Right at her toes, a box and had spilled over and scattered a variety of trinkets onto the hardwood. Frankie bent down; upon closer inspection, she realized it was all a variety of men and women’s jewelry. Necklaces, earrings, watches- she even spotted something that looked like a toe ring. Among them was a spiderweb earring just like the one she had felt.

Her heart nearly stopped as her eyes landed upon a piece that lay discarded by a neon yellow running shoe. It was a necklace with a pink plastic chain that had been interwoven with black and green glass beads. The pendant was a cameo frame that had small bows at the top and bottom, while the actual cameo was that of a bright green eyeball. Hanging below the frame was a small star-shaped bead.

She recognized the necklace immediately.

Her and Draculaura had bought it for Iris for as a gift just over the summer.

Frankie felt every single part of her go cold, from the back of her neck all the way to the tips of her toes. She trailed her gaze from the jewelry to the shoes, to the clothes, her terror growing as she recognized several other pieces in the mess.

Over by the vent was a bracelet with starfish charms that belonged to Lagoona’s. There, by the wall, a pair of teal high tops that she remembered Clawdeen getting for Clawd for his birthday. In the smallest box under the shelf, a distressed tiger stripe print-sweater stuck out that Toralei had worn a few times at school…

With every garment she saw, Frankie’s horror grew. Now, the alarm bells in her head were going off at full power. She swallowed against the lump in her throat; her mouth felt drier than a desert during a drought.

Yet, she didn’t run away.

There was something else she had to see.

Something that she had to make sure of, as if what was right in front of her right now wasn’t proof enough. It was stupid, but by some twisted intuition, she didn’t leave the house.

Instead, Frankie stood up and quietly closed the closet. The earring in her pocket felt like it had suddenly gained fifty pounds.

Turning on her heel- it took all her might not to spook herself with images of someone being behind her- she pushed the closet shut.

Then, her movements stiff like a robot, Frankie left the office and started walking towards the direction of the master bedroom.

* * *

Grindylow couldn’t believe the things he was hearing.

After months of going in circles, coming up short, finding more holes and developing more questions but being unable to find any answers to fill those holes, the truth of everything came flying at him like someone had just thrown a seaweed pie in his face.

Now, as him and Firth stood, listening as the short boogeyghoul and Dr. Moreau’s stepdaughter relayed their conversation about what the latter had overheard from some birds (Grindylow didn’t question how she did that) and their plan about tracking where the killer had seemed to go, the pieces fell into place effortlessly.

It made Grindylow feel almost idiotic for how simple it all sounded now. Of _course, _he had used boogie sand. One of the easiest, painless ways that could change a monster’s species without any consequence. Of _course_, he used a storage facility. Plenty of tools at his disposal and an easy way for him to restrain his victims without alerting them or anyone to their presence there.

For a fleeting moment, he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. How had him and Firth spent months basically chasing their tails and agonizing over reports only to come up short, and these teenagers had been able to find the answers completely on accident? It made Grindylow question his skills. He’d been a detective for over a century, how had he completely missed these factors?

“...then, the ravens led us to the storage units,” Jane was explaining, “And they led us to the one that they’d seen the masked man come out of. Gigi was in that one.”

“So after that,” Twyla finished up, “That’s when we thought we better...you know...”

The three detectives listened to them intently. Dr. Moreau looked at Jane with shock and disbelief.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he asked, “You _knew _I was working on the case, so why didn’t you bring this to my attention?!”

Jane looked down at her feet with a guilty look. “I-I wanted to be sure,” she said, “A-And...I-I don’t know, I was worried if I turned out to be wrong, that...that he might have done something worse...”

She trailed off and pressed the tips of her index fingers against each other sheepishly. Firth stepped forward and touched her shoulder, his expression softening as he saw the obvious discomfort in the girl.

“You’ve done an amazing thing, Jane,” he told her gently, “Due to your intuition and your plan, you and your friends have been heroes tonight. You’ve been able to rescue your friends and hopefully, bring us one step closer to finally ending all of this. You should feel very proud of yourself.”

Jane’s cheeks deepened to such a deep mulberry it looked like she was feverish to the point of fainting, but she slowly looked up into his eyes like she was checking to make sure he was sincere, her light blue eyes shyly seeking approval.

A thought seemed to come to her, though, and her shoulders sank with a depressing realization.

“That’s all we know, though,” she admitted, “The ravens said the masked man shadow-traveled after he left the storage unit, so they couldn’t track him.”

At this mention, Grindylow turned to Dr. Moreau. The hybrid looked deeply troubled by what he heard.

“You think there’s still some doubt he’s our guy?” Grindylow asked.

It seemed like everything fit together perfectly, but he could still seem some hesitance in the doctor’s eyes. Right now, Grindylow found it a little bit frustrating. They seemed to be so close- what else could they be missing?

“It all adds up,” Dr. Moreau said in thought, crossing his arms, “But I still don’t understand. Hyena Swine didn’t become a ghost upon his death, so he must’ve crossed to the Spirit World. But why is he here now? How did he even manage to leave?”

Everyone perked up in alarm at the mention of the name. Twyla looked between the detectives and the doctors, her brows furrowed with perplexity.

“Wait, do...do you guys have a suspect?” she questioned, “You know _who’s _behind all this?”

“Hyena Swine?” Jane repeated, “The guy from your island? What does he have to do with this?”

Grindylow repressed a sigh. They didn’t have time for twenty questions right now- time was of the essence. Him and Firth still needed to check out the crime scene and get a check up of all who’d been found at the storage site- both dead and alive.

Before anyone could answer, all conversation was suddenly cut off by the announcement from a loud German-tinged voice from the back of the hallway.

“EVERYONE, LISTEN!”

They all jumped and turned. Dr. Stein stood around the crowd of concerned parents, his hands in the air as a gesture of holding off anyone else’s comments. He turned around in a circle as he looked everyone in the eye. His scrubs were stained with blood and there was an exhausted look in his eye that made him look ancient, even for his age.

“I know you all want answers, and I know you’re all anxious about finding out about the well-being of your children,” Viktor explained, “But _please_, we can only do as much as we’re capable of, and we can only give you as much information as we’ve been provided, which is _not _much.

“I promise you, as soon as every one of our patients who’ve arrived is either stabilized or in surgery, one of our staff members will alert whichever one of you is the family as _soon _as possible, but for now, all I can ask of you is to please give us your patience and allow us to do what we can,” he requested.

Clawdeen couldn’t help but give a small wince at the very slight hint of desperation she heard in his voice. Frankie’s dad was normally very reserved whenever he was working, so to hear even he was at the end of his wit’s drove home how dire the situation was.

Everyone looked like they wanted to object, but they all begrudgingly nodded their heads and said they would wait. Viktor nodded in satisfaction and gestured with his hand to the far end of the hall, opposite of where the detectives and the others were.

“Now, please,” Viktor said, “If you all would be so kind as to wait in the lobby, we will have a nurse come out as soon as we get each student the all-clear. But right now, we have a lot to do and other patients to worry about on top of this, so _please _let us do our job.”

They all watched as the parents obeyed and shuffled in the direction that he was pointed. A few lingered, their worried gazes locked onto where the emergency rooms were, but they eventually turned and headed in that same direction.

Finally placated, Viktor sighed and adjusted his lab coat, before he turned in the direction that the detectives and Twyla’s group was standing.

“Excuse me, Dr. Stein?” Grindylow said as the large simulacrum came towards them. He tried not to linger on the massive, broad size of the doctor (but gods, was he _huge). _

Viktor stopped right as he was about to pass them and turned. His yellowed eyes looked between Firth and Grindylow as he recognized them.

“Oh, hello, detectives,” he greeted, “I’m going to guess you’re here to get some input about my sudden influx of patients?”

Grindylow nodded, “We’ll need a full report on the full extent of everyone’s injuries and if there was any distinct markings they had.”

Viktor nodded, though his face was grim. His eyes slid over to where all the kids were watching them. Grindylow had a feeling he was thinking about all the kids found and was comparing them to all those who were missing; he probably already suspected that not everyone who was now here at the hospital accounted for all of them and had realized which parents would have to be given the news of the worse case scenario to.

That, or having to treat a dozen kids with Gods knew what kinds of injuries had probably shaken him up emotionally in a way that he wasn’t used to. Something told Grindylow that the doctor was familiar with several of the victims; he certainly seemed to be close friends with the Wolf family, based on the interactions he had seen. It had to be hard as hell to see your friends’ kids in that sort of state and be the one to see first hand how bad it could get.

“Viktor, we’re done with Toralei,” a female voice said, “We’re going to be moving her into-”

Grindylow and Viktor turned. Viveka stood just behind them, wearing a surgical mask that had been pulled down against her chin and holding a clipboard. She had stopped in the middle of her comment as she looked up and realized who was in the hall right now.

“Dr. Stein,” Grindylow greeted again, “We were just telling your husband about needing to send us everyone’s medical reports once you are all finished treating them.”

Viveka made a face. She said dejectedly, “Well, I can tell you right now, I hope you have a strong stomach for what you’ll be reading.”

She shook her head in disgust, “It’s horrendous, the kinds of things those kids had to go through.”

_You have no idea, _Grindylow thought, thinking back to Ossium’s previous reports of the other victims that had been found last month. They hadn’t released certain details to the press, such as the cause of death for the Hairris or Surrey boys or the kinds of tortures they’d endured, out of respect for the families and so as to not scare everyone more than they already were, but after tonight, Grindylow thought that the media was going to have an absolute field day with this.

“M-Mrs. Stein?” Clawdeen asked, stepping up to them, “I-Is everyone okay? Like, h-how badly was everyone hurt?”

Viveka gave her a sad smile, “I’m sorry, sweetie, that’s confidential right now. Only the family has the right to that information.”

“But they found _everyone _who was missing, right?” Howleen asked, pulling away from Gigi and Rider, “Like, there’s not anyone who still needs to be accounted for anything?”

At that, Grindylow noticed Billy and Spectra both wince. Twyla looked down at the floor and he heard Jane sniffle. Dr. Moreau went over and pulled her into his arms; she hugged him back tightly and buried her face in his chest.

_They already know which kids were found dead_ , Grindylow realized,  _Christ. Some of them were probably their own friends._

His fists clenched. He swore when they found this Swine guy, he would make sure the bastard was locked away even if he had to drag his ass back to hell himself.

In the same direction that Clawdeen, Howleen, and Rider had come through, a sudden flurry of voices came around the corner. Grindylow saw a flash of orange and yellow out of the corner of his eye, before a teenage boy appeared in view. His head was turned to the side as he talked to someone out of view, distracting him from what was in front of him.

“It should be around here-!” the boy was in the middle of saying before he slammed into Firth. Both of them led out sounds of surprise and stumbled. The impact caused Firth to drop the documents in his hand that they’d been pouring over with Vitae and Moreau earlier, causing them to scatter out onto the floor.

The teenager stumbled back. He looked up with a wince at the detectives when he realized what had happened. He was a fire elemental with reddish-orange hair and yellow skin, and most noticeably missing his left arm. Grindylow recognized him as the Burns kid who’d been attacked by the masked man.

“Oh, s-sorry about that, man,” Heath said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, “Should’ve been paying attention.”

“It’s all right,” Grindylow said for Firth, “With everything, I think we’re all a little bit unfocused.”

He looked over Heath’s shoulder; a female mummy and a male gorgon wearing sunglasses appeared behind him, though luckily the two of them had their gazes forward and managed to stop in time before they could bump into their friend.

Viktor and Viveka both bent down to help Firth gather up the papers, handing them back as Firth muttered a “thanks”. As he grabbed one document, however, Viktor suddenly made a face and slowly stood up, his large brow creased as he looked down at the document with a puzzled frown.

Firth lifted his head and held his hand out. “Dr. Stein, that’s confidential-”

“I...” Viktor said, “I recognize this handwriting.”

Everyone’s attention turned sharply to him. Grindylow glanced at Firth and Moreau; they both stared back. Moreau’s face was deathly pale.

“You do?” Grindylow asked, stepping towards the doctor, “Who?”

“Yes, I do,” Viktor said in thought, “I...I swear, I’ve seen one of my patients write in the exact same way...”

Grindylow opened his mouth to ask him to elaborate, if he could recall the specific patient in mind, but right at that moment, Viveka let out a sharp gasp.

“Oh...oh _Mein Gott,” _she muttered, “No...”

Grindylow and Viktor looked at her. She had stood up as well; her dark violet eyes glared down at the sheet of paper she had like it was a bad omen. Her green face had drained of all color and become a light mint color, while her mouth hung open and her bottom lip trembled. Her large hands started to shake so hard that it seemed like they were about to tear at their seams.

She looked up at Viktor with a terribly frightened expression. “V-Viktor...”

Slowly, Viveka turned the paper around. It was the police sketch of the killer that they had received from Killsboro.

Immediately, Viktor froze. His eyes bulged out their sockets just like his wife and he dropped the photo of the note from Screamfield. It fluttered down and rested atop of his work shoes without him noticing.

“That...that can’t be...” the simulacrum muttered in shock.

Grindylow furrowed his brows at their reaction. He stepped up to them and grabbed Viktor’s arm.

“Mr. Stein, Mrs. Stein, do you recognize in this picture?” he asked, pointing to the sketch, “Please, if you know anything, you need to tell us.”

Viktor turned to him. The amount of fear in his eyes seemed out of place with his large and intimidating frame.

“H-He’s a patient of mine...” Viktor answered, “For the past six months, I’ve been treating him. H-He’s...he’s always come in at least once a month.”

“What’s his name?” Grindylow pressed.

“A-A-Amerou,” Viktor stammered, “Nidae Amerou...”

“Amerou? What kind of name is-” Grindylow repeated.

His eyes suddenly widened in realization. His head whipped to the side to catch Moreau’s eye. The doctor stared back at him, catching on to the same line of thinking.

_Amerou _ was an anagram for  _Moreau_ . 

Firth stood up and grabbed the pictures from Viktor and Viveka. He held up the witness sketch again and looked at either of them with a stern expression.

“Do you have any idea of where this man could be?” he asked, “Any contact information we can use or an address?”

“Y-Y-Yes, of course,” Viktor said, “I know where he lives. He lives only a few blocks over from us. My daughter...”

He cut himself off as he paused.  Viveka let out another gasp and her hands flew to her mouth in horror. She stared at her husband  as tears suddenly filled her eyes. She turned to Grindylow. 

“O-O-Our daughter, s-she’s, she’s at his house _right now_,” she revealed, “S-She’s done a few jobs for him. If the news has gotten hold and he finds out when she’s still there...” 

Her breathing turned shallow, “O-O-Oh,  _gott. Oh gott, _ Frankie!” 

Viktor whirled around and caught her just as her legs gave out, catching her in his arms. Clawdeen and Twyla both gasped and ran to help him. Grindylow stared at the couple in horror at the revelation.  He pressed his lips together and bent down to grip Viktor’s shoulder tightly. 

“Mr. Stein, do you have his address?” he asked.

Viktor turned to him and nodded, although he looked like he was on the verge of passing out himself.  His gaze suddenly hardened so quickly that Grindylow took a step back. He could very well see where the infamous monster from the Shelley novel in that glare. 

“Yes,” Viktor said stonily, though there was an undertone of fear still in his voice, “3420 Mandrake Grove. His house is right in the center of the cul-de-sac. The yard’s all overgrown, you can’t miss it.”

Grindylow gave him one curt nod. He turned to Firth; the cyborg stared back at him.

“Come on,” was all Grindylow said, before they turned on their heels and rushed down the hallway, turning around the corner. A few nurses and a janitor turned to watch them curiously at their rushing.

Dr. Moreau watched them go with fear as he comforted Jane. Everyone stared in that same direction, all of them now pale with fright at the revelation of where Frankie was.

Still huddled, Viveka and Viktor were among them. Suddenly, Viveka’s bolts started to spark. Viktor looked down at her and met her dazed gaze.

Suddenly, Viveka’s eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted. Viktor caught her with a yell of surprise, catching the attention of their coworkers, who rushed towards them, all of them surprised by the display by the normally cool-headed doctor.

* * *

The hallway became dark as she made her way down the hall. Numbly, Frankie flipped on the light switch as she passed by it, allowing her to see more clearly. She paused for a second, afraid that she had given herself away.

On the other side of the doors, there was silence. Not even a creak from the house settling.

As she got nearer to the bathroom, she could see her reflection more clearly. Her eyes looked too big for her face, the size of her eyes whites exaggerated further by how much her pupils had shrunk. Her skin had a noticeable pallor to it that made her look sickly.

Frankie glanced beyond her reflection to look at the hallway behind her. There was not a hint of movement coming from anywhere else.

She came closer until she was almost to the doorframe of the bathroom, where she stood right in front of the door to the bedroom.

Like that of a toy soldier, she turned on her heel so that she faced the door, her hands pressed tightly at her sides. The door was plain, save for a few noticeable scratches on the handle; most likely from the claws that opened it every day and night.

Slowly, Frankie leaned forward. Ever so gently, she pressed her hands against the door, before putting her weight on them as she turned her head and pressed her against the wood as well. She held her breath as she listened in for anything inside the room.

Nothing.

Pulling away, she stared at it for a few seconds longer. Her knees felt weak, like her stitches were about to come loose by sheer nerves.

She thought, _One quick look. _

_One quick look and then you run for your unlife. _

Trying one last time, she gave three hard knocks on the wood.

“Mr. Amerou?” she yelled in her loudest voice, “Are you there? Are you okay, are you hurt?”

No response.

Frankie took a deep breath.

Grasping the handle with trembling hands, she gently pushed down. It gave without any resistance and she eased it past the latch, before she slowly placed her palm against the door and pushed it open. The light from the hallway formed a rectangular path as it painted the floor and far wall with yellow, revealing the dresser and shuttered window inside.

The rest of the room was hidden in the darkness, but out of the corners of the light, Frankie could see something strange on the walls. Something that fluttered as the door flew open.

Looking to the left, she caught sight of the light switched and flipped it on.

Frankie let out a sharp gasp and took a step back in horror. Her pupils shrunk to mere specks as she took in the layout of the room. She couldn’t belief what she was seeing.

“Oh gods,” was all she could muster.

Every inch of every wall was covered in photographs. Held up by either thumbtacks or scotch tape, the plain white walls were buried beneath what had to be hundreds, if not thousands of photographs. Polaroids littered the opposite walls and displayed random people caught candidly in random acts- the casketball team running laps on the track, Toralei and the twins in conversation as they walked through the maul with their arms full of shopping bags, Iris and Gigi pouring over a book as they ate at what looked to be a table near the town center. It was obvious that nobody in the pictures knew they were being photographed, all the shots being snapped from far away, like from the outside of a window or around the corner of a hallway.

Everyone in the photographs was a Monster High student. Whether they were people she had talked to one on one or just a passing face in the hallway, Frankie could recognize every single person in the shots. There were even (_Oh god) _several with _her _and her friends in them- at fearleading practice, walking home from school, going to work, so on and so forth. None of them any the wiser that they had been watched and documented. Several students had a lot more shots focused on them than others. There was a great collage near the right upper corner that was all shots of Toralei, while below it was a collection of ones with Clawdeen.

The right wall was covered in various newspaper clippings. Most of them were from the New Salem Tribune and The Daily Update, but she caught sight of several clippings from papers out of state; she spotted a few from Wailshington and some as far as Clawnada. The headlines boasted about the discovery of monster remains being found in some site or another: this one college student’s were found in a dump, this prom queen’s body was found in a port-o-potty, this freshman’s corpse was located under the boardwalk at this beach. All of them grim and gory.

And on the left wall, the one which had the door to the master bathroom, missing persons posters showcasing every one of her fellow missing students who had disappeared in the last three months were pinned upon the drywall like a pinboard displaying wanted posters in the sheriff’s office of a classic Western movie. Clawd, Lagoona, Abbey, Wydowna, Romulus- every single person who’d been reported missing, their poster was here. All of them containing a smiling photograph of the person in question, with their physical description and ways of contacting the police or their families at the bottom. The promise of a cash reward was printed at the bottom of each poster.

Several of the posters had been crossed out with big red X’s that had been made with red marker; Frankie realized that these ones were all the students whose bodies had been found- Gil, Harper, Hellvira’s boyfriend. Her stomach twisted up in knots when she saw that Purrsephone and Iris were among these. Two of them, Clawd and Silvi, had their portraits circled in by black sharpie.

A copy of last year’s yearbook lay open on the nightstand. Out of the corner of her eye, Frankie could see several students’ names were circled in red marker. If she would’ve looked harder, she would’ve seen it was open to a page displaying her class, and that several names were circled.

But she didn’t. Right now, all Frankie could focus on was what hung on the coat rack in the center of the room.

There were only a few garments on said rack. On the top peg hung a long black cloak that went all the way to the floor. On top of that rested a wide brimmed hat, also black in color, similar to that one may think would be worn by a cowboy or a Victorian gentleman. On the peg next to this one, a leather brown belt with various pouches in it swayed back and forth.

None of these, however, filled her with as much terror, chilled her to the bones, as did the white plastic plague doctor mask that hung off the third peg. Its long beak curved like a talon, while its glass lenses gleamed in the light.

Frankie felt her spine go pencil straight as she heard a sudden whooshing sound right behind her- the same exact sound she had heard only ten minutes earlier.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

Her blood turned to ice.

Frankie only had enough time to whip around and see Mr. Amerou staring down at her- see the bonechilling lack of emotion in his narrow yellow-brown eyes- before he lunged at her and swung something up from behind him.

There was a flash of brown- maybe a rolling pin or a wooden bowl of some kind- before it cracked her squarely in the head. Frankie felt her head explode in pain as her vision with white.

She whirled around on her feet, unable to even process what had happened, before her legs immediately gave out and she dropped onto her side, her head hitting the carpeted floor with a small thud as the world went black.


	20. Chapter 19: Darkest Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter contains graphic depictions of violence and character death.

Frankie groaned. Her head felt like it was about to split open as an unbearable pain pulsed out from the left side of her head. It seemed to echo out with every beat of her heart. She clenched her eyes shut further to try and fight against it, before she squinted to find she was looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

She tried to sit up, only to feel something pressing down heavily on her torso and a strange lack of being able to feel her hands or her toes. Her eyes widened as full consciousness quickly came back to her. Frankie lifted her head and glanced down at her body, whimpering at what she saw.

She was lying on an old dining room table. Her hands and feet had ripped from their seams, leaving the stitches at her wrists and ankles in torn threads. Two thick leather restraint belts kept her pressed against the table as they wound around her body and underneath the table, one digging into her abdomen just below her bust while the was thrown over her thighs and rendered them immobile.

Frankie looked around the room she was in, shimmying her shoulders and hips to try and wriggle out of the restraints. She was in what looked to be a basement; she could see the floor was made of concrete and the walls were old mildew-covered brick. There was a washer and dryer pressed against one wall and a shelf of cleaning supplies in the corner. Above the washer, a tiny window showed her that it was pitch black outside.

Another pang went through her head when she whipped it to the side too quickly. Frankie winced. Where was she? How did she get here?

The last thing she remembered was-

Frankie froze. Her stomach clenched as everything came back to her in a rush.

Being in Mr. Amerou’s house...finding the boogie sand and the earring...finding her friends’ clothes in his closet...the bedroom being full of missing persons posters and a costume..._the _costume…

“It didn’t have to be this way, you know.”

Frankie’s whole body went stiff at the voice. She stay still for a moment, her heart beating wildly in her ribcage as she heard footsteps approach from somewhere behind her.

A figure suddenly appeared in her peripheral. She didn’t want to look, but Frankie slowly forced herself to turn her head to the right. Once, she had looked upon this man with friendship and fondness, but now, all she could feel was ice told terror.

“M-M-Mr. Amerou...” she stuttered.

Mr. Amerou smiled. It was a cold smile, though. More like a predator who is rejoicing in getting his prey cornered than any person who wanted to be cordial. It chilled her to the very bone.

As he glanced down upon her, Frankie became all too aware of just how tall he was. His yellow-brown eyes were menacing and looked like they wanted nothing more than to eat her alive. His thick reddish-blonde hair was wild as hung in thick clumps around his head and grew on his face. His jagged sharp teeth stuck out over his bottom lip like broken shards of glass jammed into a piece of wood. He had since removed his shirt, allowing Frankie to see his naked torso, covered in matching spotted ginger hair that was patchy around his shoulders and arms.

It also allowed her to see the way his torso was discolored in several areas. Instead of the the slightly tan skin that was like that of his brow, parts of his chest and arms were pitch black, like the part of his upper arm that she had asked him about earlier. It looked like he had been splashed with black paint. Mr. Amerou had also removed the bandages that he’d been wearing earlier. His hands looked like they didn’t belong with his body. They were gangly and thin compared to the meaty muscularity of the rest of his body, the skin stretched taught over thin bones and as black as the rest of the strange patches on his skin. His left pinkie and ring finger were as thin as twigs and were much longer than the rest of his finger, their thin circumference making them look like the legs of a camel spider. The claw at the end of each jutted out further in jagged points like a broken knife.

“You couldn’t just leave well enough alone,” Mr. Amerou commented emotionlessly, “You could’ve just done your job and been on your merry way. Instead you had to poke and prod like the annoying little bug you’ve prided yourself on being.”

He lifted his hands and placed them on the table beside her. Frankie couldn’t help but inch away from them, her skin crawling at the thought of him touching her further. She took in his strange physique, a newfound sense of horror and disgust coming over her. She looked back into Mr. Amerou’s eyes, gulping at the madness she saw in the depth of his gaze.

“You were one of my favorites, you know,” he said, “I was going to leave you for last, give you a little bit of mercy as I worked through your friends, but it seems that that fucking bog boy and his robot finally finally managed to have some competence.”

He reached for her. Frankie closed her eyes and turned her head away in resistance. She let out a whimper as he roughly grabbed her chin and yanked her back towards him, his claws digging into her cheeks. She opened her eyes again with reluctance. Tears filled them as Mr. Amerou met her gaze.

“Doesn’t mean that I can’t have some last minute fun before I’m gone, though, right?” he asked, his dark lips pulling back from his muzzle with a crazed smile, “Especially since you were oh-so-kind as to tell your little vampy bitch that you were going to be late. Once I’m through with you, nobody will be any the wiser until the deed’s long since been done.”

“N-N-No,” Frankie squeaked, her vision swimming, “P-P-Please, p-please don’t do this...”

Amerou’s grin widened and he let her go. “But why not?” he asked, “Don’t you want to spend some ‘quality’ time with your dear old friend before I skip town? It won’t be like they’ll be able to track me down or anything. By the time anyone suspects something, all I need to do is throw on some more sand like that-”

He snapped his fingers for emphasis, “-And I’ll be long gone in the night. I could be halfway into the next state before they even realize anything’s amiss. Which leaves me plenty of time to get started with _you.” _

Frankie whimpered. She was unable to keep looking at him and clamped her eyes shut right as she started to cry, as if she could will him away if he was no longer in her line of sight. Amerou grinned in delight as he watched her try to squirm against her restraints. They pinned her tight to the table, though, and without even her hands to help her, she looked like a pathetic little worm trying to crawl out of the dirt.

Suddenly turning her gaze back to the ceiling, Frankie screamed, “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP-!”

She was quickly cut off as Amerou grabbed her bottom jaw and shoved something into her mouth. Frankie gagged against it as she felt thick fabric suddenly against her tongue. She realized it was a pair of socks.

“No you don’t,” Amerou said, stuffing the socks further into her mouth. Frankie wriggled in discomfort as she felt the cloth tickle at the back of her throat and cut off part of her airway.

“_MMMMPH! MMMMPFGH!” _she screamed through the socks, the volume noticeably muffled, _“MMMMM!” _

Mr. Amerou stepped back and observed her. He shook his head in disappointment at the sight of the makeshift gag.

“Normally, I hate having to muzzle people like this,” he said, “It’s just so..._beautiful, _being able to hear someone scream loud and clear to their heart’s content, to be able to hear the full extent of the horror and helplessness that fills their voice as they do so.”

He shrugged and sighed, “Unfortunately, circumstances can’t allow for me to do that right now. So I’ll just have to make do with what I got.”

He turned away from her and walked over to a beam that stood in the middle of the basement. There was a cardboard box lying by it; Amerou knelt down and opened it, rifling through its contents briefly before he grabbed something and stood back up

“Mmmmmpgh! MMMFFF!” Frankie shouted in alarm as he turned around and revealed it to be a large kitchen knife, “NNNN!”

Amerou wore a wide grin as he approached her, drinking in the sight of her as she began to thrash at the sight of the knife.

“No need to waste the hours we have left, shall we?” he asked in amusement.

He stood next to the table and grabbed Frankie’s arm from under the restraint. Frankie tried to pull away, but it kept her in place. She screamed at what had to be at the top of her lungs through the gag.

“MMMMMPH! MMMMPH!” she shook her head back and forth, as if trying to tell Amerou she refused, before she broke down and began sobbing, “Mmmmph! Mmmmmnnnnn!”

“I’ve always wondered how this body of yours works,” Amerou commented, “Do you bleed formaldehyde, or do those walking corpses you call parents supply you with some IV bags they surely took from the hospital? Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

“MMMMPH!” Frankie screeched as he pulled her arm to hold it out straight, “NNNNPHH!”

Amerou placed the tip of the knife against her shaking wrist.

Before he could do anything, however, they were both alerted to a sound coming up from somewhere outside on the upper level. The loud screeching of tires echoed through the house, before they heard a car door slam. A moment later, there was a loud banging on the front door, before Frankie and Amerou heard it bust open as someone broke the lock.

“_FRANKIE!” _Holt’s voice screamed up from the entrance, “_FRANKIE, WHERE ARE YOU?!” _

Mr. Amerou paused and looked over his shoulder to glance at the basement door. Frankie heard him let loose a low growl, before he turned back to her, one of his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Well, well, well,” he said, “It seems someone else has decided to invite themselves to the party.”

He put the knife down by Frankie’s thigh for a minute. “Guess we better go greet him, shall we?”

“MMMMPH!” Frankie shook her head. Her heart hammered in her chest. If Holt and Jackson were here, they were for sure going to be killed. “HHHHNNN! HHHMMMNNN!”

* * *

Holt’s eyes flashed wildly back and forth as he read street signs and navigated the narrow streets of the neighborhood. He swerved and barely avoided hitting parked cars and bikes, his foot still pressing heavily on the gas even though he was in a residential area.

_It’s around here somewhere, _he thought to himself, his heart beating wildly as he tried to recall the route to the Amerou guy’s house. He caught sight of a familiar batch of bushes that were planted on the corner of a street and sharply turned to the right. His tires squealed against the asphalt and left track marks as the momentum made the car grind against the ground, but all Holt could focus on was the familiar looking brown house that lay right up ahead at the end of the cul-de-sac.

The car shot forward like a bullet as Holt pressed on the gas and sped right down the middle of the road to the house, scraping the paint off several car doors from where he was too close to them. With his adrenaline rush and his worry for Frankie giving him tunnel vision, though, Holt didn’t even notice.

He slammed on the brakes as he approached the house and yanked the steering wheel to the left. The car skidded against the road as it turned sideways and nearly flipped over from the sudden jerk in direction, but Holt was able to keep it straight as he brought it to a rough stop. The car lurched violently back and forth from the inertia and came to a stop.

Flinging his seat belt off, Holt didn’t even bother turning off the car or removing the keys from the ignition as he threw the door open and scrambled out. He looked up at Mr. Amerou’s house. The lights seemed to be on in every room, but it was deathly silent.

He pounded up the worn steps of the porch and across the deck, stumbling as he had to keep himself from completely running into the door. Holt didn’t even bother with the doorbell as he rammed his fist against the door.

“FRANKIE!” he yelled out, “FRANKIE, can you hear me?!”

No response.

Something was wrong, he could feel it. There was something about the house, an aura of some kind, that put a pit in his stomach.

He lunged for the doorknob. It wouldn’t budge an inch. Locked.

“Come on, damn you,” Holt hissed as he gripped the knob in both hands and rammed against the door with his shoulder, flinging his entire weight against it desperately.

The force sent tore a chunk of the doorframe in the hall flying across the floor as the dead lock finally ripped from its place. Holt stumbled as the door gave way, but quickly regained his posture and looked around the interior of the house in panic.

“FRANKIE!” he yelled out, his voice echoing through the house, “FRANKIE, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

It was silent, save for the evening news he could hear playing from the living room. He looked to the side, his heart sinking as he saw her winter coat and her purse hanging off a hook on the coat rack. She was still here.

He ran into the living room and the kitchen. No sign of her.

“FRANKIE!” he shouted, “FRANKIE!”

He turned and was about to head up the stairs, when he heard a noise. Holt paused, going deathly still for a second.

Somewhere below him, he could hear someone making noise. Whatever words they were saying were muffled. Holt dared not to even breathe as he tried to listen in. There was no telling who- or even _what_\- was in this house at this hour.

He slowly lifted his head and looked ahead. There, right outside the entrance to the kitchen, there was a single white door on his right, directly next to the stairs. It was closed, preventing from seeing what it was. Something in his gut, whether it was intuition or some sort of monster ability from his great-grandfather’s side of the family he didn’t know about, something was telling him that the noise had to do with that door.

Suddenly, as if purposefully set off by the mere thought, a smothered yet still shrill scream came from the other side of the door.

“_Rrrrrrrrrggggh!” _

Holt felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Had he been able to think more clearly or let himself have a moment to get his thoughts together, he would’ve done the rational thing and called the police or even got over to one of the neighbors to tell them how he suspected his ghoulfriend was in danger. He probably would’ve been more stealthy in his approach and tried to be more careful about letting his presence be known. He would’ve possibly thought to even grab a weapon to defend himself.

Right now, in this moment, however, any sort of sense or clear thinking went straight out the window as all his attention focused on the fact that Frankie was screaming.

Frankie was in this house and she was _screaming. _

Without a second thought, Holt leaped off the last step of the stairs and threw the door on the right open. Below was a series of steps leading to what could only be the basement.

“Frankie?!” he called out below.

“Nnnnmph! Nnmmmpff!” he heard yell out in response.

Holt grabbed the banister and raised down the stairs, the cold temperature of the basement biting in his skin. As he raced down, he could see an something black and white hanging off a table that was placed on the far side of the room.

His pupils shrunk to the size of pencil points as he got to the bottom level and could now clearly see Frankie, tied down to a table near the far wall, her hands and feet having been removed and a makeshift gag shoved into her mouth. Her arm was bleeding.

“Frankie!” Holt exclaimed.

Frankie raised her head at him. Her mint colored-face looked to be nearly drained of all blood and her dual-colored eyes were as big as saucers as tears ran down her cheeks. Instead of looking relieved, though, as her eyes landed on him, Frankie’s dread only seemed to grow.

“Mmmmmm!” she yelled at him through the gag, jutting her chin out at him, “Hhmmm! MMMhhhnnn!”

Her eyes darted over at something over his shoulder. “Hmmphfff! MMMPH!”

“Surprise,” a voice said behind him.

Holt felt his heart skip a beat.

Before he could so much as even turn his head, something came down hard on the back of his head, causing a sickening thud to echo between his own ears.

Holt jerked and gave a surprised noise, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed.

The last thing he registered was the sound of Frankie screaming louder through her gag.

* * *

On the highway, another car was making its way towards Amerou’s house. This one, though, was clearly marked as being a police cruiser, one which had its lights on and its siren wailing at maximum volume, alerting cars and motorcycles to move out of the way at once.

Firth and Grindylow sat at the front, weaving in and out between the lanes as they raced to the address that Dr. Stein had provided them. Firth sat at the wheel, the scanners in his eyes alerting him of the fastest routes and shortcuts and possible cautions ahead. Beside him, Grindylow grabbed the the microphone for the police scanner and fiddled with dial.

“This is Detective Grindylow calling,” he reported into the mic, “Calling all units, we are reporting a possible 12-24A at 3420 Mandrake Grove. We are also reporting a possible 12-99 in progress and are requesting backup of all officers in the immediate area.

“I repeat, we are reporting a possible 12-24A. Handle with extreme caution, consider subject to be possibly armed and extremely dangerous,” Grindylow added, “I _repeat: _subject is to be considered possibly armed and _extremely _dangerous.”

He hung up the mic and reached up for the grab handle near the window, his eyes shooting up to look ahead at the road. His face was grim.

They were so close to catching the perp. This night may be the night that everything finally stopped once and for all. In the moment, though, Grindylow and Firth could both only feel nervous anticipation as they approached the house, the revelation by Dr. Stein’s wife of the witness sketch and their daughter’s connection to it fresh in their minds.

_Just this once, _ he prayed to the gods whom he had long since given up having any faith in, _Just this once, damn you all, don’t forsake us. _

He could only pray that the night would end the terror once and for all without any additional bloodshed.

* * *

Heath slowly approached the room, feeling numb as he quietly stepped out of the way to let nurses and doctors go by. He felt exhausted beyond his years, yet he knew that he couldn’t sleep even if he lay down and closed his eyes right now. His mind was wide awake, like it was on hyperdrive, keeping him awake even though all his muscles begged for him to finally relax.

He could only remember a few other times he had ever felt so tired. Both of which had occurred in only these past few months.

So much had happened in such little time. In only a matter of two hours, his world had been flipped upside down, then right side up, and now flipped upside down again. He couldn’t even describe what he was feeling right now- for the most part, he was just empty, too mentally and emotionally exhausted to even get worked up.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his contact list to see if either Jackson or Holt had responded to his messages. Just like they’d been in the last hour, the prior four of them were still unread. Heath withheld a growl of anger as he put it away.

Where the hell were the two of them? Did they not care about everything was happening? That their friends were finally found after almost four fucking months? That Frankie was missing? Just what the hell was so important they couldn’t even be bothered to show up, or say anything to their fucking ghoulfriend being in danger?!

Heath paused and took a deep breath. He knew he was being unfair. The whole night had just been one slap in the face after another and his nerves had been shot to hell and back.

He was only a few feet from the room he had in mind when he stopped as Headmistress Bloodgood stepped out. She looked almost like a complete stranger compared to the normally sophisticated appearance Heath was used to seeing her put on- her normally pristine bun was messy with stray strands having come loose and she had deep lines and bags under her eyes and her clothes were slightly wrinkled. It was like the physical aspect of her ancient age was finally catching up to her.

Bloodgood rubbed at her face and started to turn in his direction. As she took them away, she suddenly paused when she saw Heath standing there.

“Oh...hi, Heath,” she greeted tiredly, “Are you hear to see Abbey?”

“Y-Y-Yeah,” Heath said, shifting on his feet, “I-If that’s okay with you. Or her, if she’s up to it...”

They both looked to the left of the hall as they suddenly heard a devastating scream of “_NOOOOOO!” _come from some woman they couldn’t see. The nurses ahead of them jumped at the sound as well. The wail broke off into a heartbreaking series of sobs that seemed to echo through the hallways.

Heath swallowed against a lump that appeared in his throat. He heard that sound before; while him, Deuce, and Cleo were waiting in the lobby of the ER, they heard a similar scream occur, before they suddenly saw a werecat woman and her husband, the two of them bearing a striking resemblance to Meowlody and Purrsephone, have to literally be dragged to somewhere else in the hospital by nurses.

He didn’t want to think about what that kind of scream entailed. He had a feeling, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. Not yet.

He didn’t want to know if that’s what his own voice would sound like if he found out something about Abbey…

Bloodgood’s gaze lingered in that direction for a bit longer, her dark blue eyes filled with sadness and despair of a woman who is resigned to the fact that the worst has come. When she turned to Heath, however, she offered him a small smile. It was pained and watery, but still filled with a surprising amount of warmth that soothed Heath a little. She stepped aside and gestured with her arm.

“Go on in,” she said softly, “I was about to get a cup of coffee anyway. I’m sure she’ll be glad to have someone familiar with her when she wakes up.”

That was all the assurance Heath needed. He put his hand in his pocket and came closer so he was now right outside the doorway.

Bloodgood gave him a small squeeze on the shoulder, before she pulled away and headed down to get her coffee. Heath turned to give her a brief look as she walked away, before he finally turned to look into the room.

His eyes locked onto the hospital bed in the center of the room and his heart did a flip as he took in the sight of Abbey, of his beloved, lying in the bed, gently dozing under a thin blanket. Her breathing was soft as her chest lightly rose up and down.

For a moment, Heath felt so overwhelmed he thought he was about to break down in the doorway. A sudden sense of relief hit him and he let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding.

He managed to hold himself together, though, and kept his gaze on Abbey as he quietly approached the bed. His eyes were soft as he stopped next to it and gazed down at her. There were four painful-looking claw marks that had been slashed deep into the flesh of her right cheek that had been stitched together, while a longer slash went from her right eye all the way to the edge of her hairline near her ear. Her arms were wrapped in medical tape and gauze like a mummy. On her left temple, one ran vertical down to the edge of her jaw.

They looked painful, but Heath couldn’t help himself as he gently stroked her cheek with his knuckles. A piece of her hair came loose and he gently tucked it behind her ear. As he did, so he heard Abbey stir, before slowly, her head lifted and she peered up at him through her eyelashes.

“H...H-H-Heath?” Abbey said tiredly. Her eyes were glossy with sleep, “That...y-you?”

Heath smiled down at her. It was completely unlike his usual smirk. It was a soft, kind, genuine one full of love and happiness and relief. He reached out with his right hand to gently grasp her left.

“I’m here,” he said softly.

Abbey smiled. It immediately dropped, however, as her eyes drifted and she caught sight of his empty left sleeve. She turned her gaze back to him.

“Y-Your arm...” she stated, “It...i-i-it really real...I thought for second h-he only joke with me...”

Her eyes were filled with an uncharacteristic amount of emotional pain that stung him to the core. Heath just shook his head and slid his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together. It was a soothing sensation that they created, his warm skin against her icy coolness.

“Don’t think about that right now,” Heath said lowly, “All that matters right now is _you. _You and the others...”

Abbey’s gaze lingered on his right shoulder for a few minutes, as if she was in disbelief. At the mention of the others, however, she looked up at him.

“The...others?” she asked, “Does that mean...e-everyone else...they find?”

This time, Heath couldn’t stop his eyes from spilling over as a relieved grin came upon his features. He nodded eagerly and took a deep breath. As he let it out, his shoulders dropped, like he had been relieved of a large weight.

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice cracking, “All of them, babe. Clawd, Rom, Manny. All of you guys were in the same place, all along. T-Twyla and them, they found you.”

Abbey’s eyes widened. She gaped up at him, reading his face for any sign that he was fooling her. As she saw none, her violet gaze grew shiny with her own tears. She swallowed hard and gave Heath’s hand a squeeze.

“Please stay, Heath,” she told him, her expression faltering slightly, “I not want to be alone. I...I am afraid.”

It was something that you never, _ever _hear someone like Abbey want to exclaim. Never before she did look so fragile, so helpless about what to do. She quickly looked away from him as if ashamed of the confession. Heath, however, knew that it took a lot for her to say something of the like.

He bent down and gently kissed Abbey on her forehead. She closed her eyes and cooed in satisfaction. A tear came running down her left cheek and crystallized before it dripped off her chin as a small drop-shaped icicle.

“I’ll never leave you,” Heath, his lips warm against her skin, “I love you.”

And he did. In that moment, Abbey truly felt the depth of just how much meaning he carried behind those words. They’d never said it to each other before- Abbey believed they were said too often too soon to the wrong people, and Heath respected her on that and thus reserved it for when he truly felt the time was right. Now, though, Abbey that it was nothing but the raw, naked truth he was laying in those words.

“I love you too,” she responded, reaching up with her hand to cup his cheek.

Heath grasped it and turned to press a kiss into her palm. He then carefully climbed into the bed beside her as Abbey scooted over, being mindful of her injuries as he lay down against the pillows and tugged her against him so she could rest against his chest. Abbey curled into him and snuggled into his one arm embrace.

The feel of her head and her hand made Heath feel complete in a way that he realized he hadn’t been for such a long time. Now, all he could do was savor the feeling of knowing his one and only was back in his arms.

“Heath?” Abbey suddenly spoke up, “Where is Frankie and all them? Are they here too?”

Heath stiffened. _Shit. _

“Frankie’s, um...” he stammered, “S-She’ll be here, soon. H-Her and Jackson just got, uh, held up for a minute.”

His body language and tone immediately gave it away that it was bullshit, but for as observant as she usually was, Abbey seemed to be too tired to notice.

“Oh,” was all she said, instead, “Okay.”

She lay her head back on his chest and began to rest. Heath gently played with a few strands of her hair. He stared ahead at the door, deep in thought at what he just said. “Held up for a minute”. Such a convenient way to say in the most broad terms how her best friend was missing by the hands of the guy that most likely had been behind all this. and his cousins were still MIA in terms of contact.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm the racing of his heart, Heath could only pray that his statement, in one way or another, would turn out to be true.

And hopefully, not true in the worst way possible.

* * *

“Wake up, boy.”

This was followed up by a dull kick to his leg. Jackson stirred as he came to, feeling strangely disoriented. Unlike whenever him and Holt usually shifted, consciousness came back to him in a way that made him feel groggy and out of sorts, like he’d gotten drunk and blacked out.

As his other senses registered, he could feel a dull pain in the back of his head and something sticky on his neck. Jackson also became slightly aware, and confused, at a dim feeling of something rough rubbing at the skin on his wrists. It felt like they were chaffing.

“Wake up,” the voice repeated again.

Something wet splashed against his face, bathing his face in something that was foul-smelling and freezing like the bottom of the ocean. Jackson sat straight up this time, coughing and sputtering as water got into his mouth and nose.

He shook his head to dispel the stray droplets and looked up. What greeted his vision was like a slap in the face.

He found himself in a basement, his arms tied around his back with what felt like shoestring to a beam that supported the ceiling with him forced to sit on his ass. In front of him, Frankie lay restrained on an old dining table with a sock stuffed into her mouth. Beside her, her employer, Mr. Amerou, stood looking down at Jackson as he pulled back an empty cup.

“There,” he said, “I know sleep’s good for a head injury, but I’d prefer my time not be wasted.”

Jackson stared at him from behind his water-flecked glasses, bewildered at what he was seeing.

“W-W-Wha...” he tried sputtering out, his aching head and stupefaction at the situation making him unable to form coherent sentences.

“It is interesting,” Mr. Amerou commented, like the brunette hadn’t said anything in the first place, “Does that always happen you and your...other half? Randomly becoming one when the other is asleep? Seems like a real pain in the ass when it comes to building a schedule, especially considering someone like _him _to be the one you’re sharing a body with.”

He bent down so he was closer to Jackson’s eyes level. Jackson flinched and turned away from him.

“Though, he makes me wonder,” Amerou remarked, “Here, I thought _you _were the weaker of the two. And yet, all I had to do was make precious lil Frankie over there squeal a little, and he came running like a dog to a whistle.”

His eyes were wild. There was not even a hint of humanity Jackson could see in their unearthly honey-colored pools. It made his heart hammer in his chest. Cold sweat broke out on his body and his hands.

It instantly clicked to him; Jackson felt his nearly stop. However he had ended up here, whatever Holt was doing that brought them here, it was all suddenly clear. They were right in the hands of the man who was responsible for all of this. The kidnappings, the killings, the terrorizing.

And the whole time, he’d been right near Frankie and all of them, right under their noses. Jackson felt himself nearly go faint with the horrifying realization.

Him and Amerou suddenly turned their heads as they heard Frankie made a sudden choking noise. She was wagging her head back and forth, like a dog playing with a toy rope, before she gagged and suddenly spit out the socks that had been forced into her mouth. She coughed as she took desperate gulps of air and tried to rid her mouth of the horrid taste.

“J-J-Jackson,” she choked out, looking at her boyfriend with such deep fear that Jackson felt his heart crack in two, “I-I-It’s him! H-He’s the murderer! He stole t-the boogie sand from Twyla’s house and used that to change forms so he could hunt and kill everyone!”

“What?!” Jackson exclaimed, turning sharply back to Amerou.

Whatever species the man was, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Amerou’s skin and fur were striped like a cheetah’s, but his muzzle, ears, and general broad build were more befitting to a werewolf’s. Yet, as he took a closer look, Jackson could see several strange black patches on his skin that seemed to gradually be growing smaller.

Amerou threw his head back and cackled. Both teens grimaced at the harsh, grating squeal that came from his thick lips. It sounded more like the scream of a wounded animal than a laugh, which made it all the more chilling.

“Yes, I did, Frankie dearest,” Amerou said mockingly as he stood up and looked down at the simulacrum, “I did, and you know what? You all never suspected a single thing! I bet it never even crossed your little minds until you saw the proof for yourself!”

He looked down at her with a maniacal grin. Frankie trembled violently under his harsh gaze; she pursed her lips, trying to smother the scream that wanted so desperately to escape her throat.

“That...t-that’s why they couldn’t trace you...” Jackson said, putting two and two together, “They couldn’t pin an exact species because you _ weren’t _being one species.”

Amerou rolled around and pointed at him. His yellow and jagged teeth glinted against his dark brown muzzle like broken shards of pottery in the dirt.

“Exactly! Glad to know you’re just as smart as you seem, dear boy!” he exclaimed, as if the whole thing was so fucking amusing to him.

Frankie glared at his back with tear-filled eyes. She sniffled.

“That whole story y-you told me,” she said accusingly, “It wasn’t at all about helping either me or them. It was all _ you _justifying your reasons for doing this. Your only little way butter me up a-and get me to trust you.”

Amerou raised his eyebrow at her, smirking at the way she looked at him with venom and hurt.

“That was part of the reason, yes,” he admitted, “Part of it was to just because I was interested in hearing what your little flip boys were capable of. This whole family heritage has me perplexed, quite honestly.”

He turned to Jackson, “What exactly _ are _you two qualified as? I know you must have some fire elemental heritage from your cousin, but what exactly do they consider the Hyde boy and your other ‘parents?’ Goblins? Changelings?”

“Fuck you,” Jackson spat at him.

Amerou didn’t look displeased. He just continued to stare at him like he found something about the bloodied normie funny.

“Y-You’re a monster,” Frankie hissed at him from behind, her blue and green eyes defiant despite how shaken she looked, “A-All that stuff you s-said about your father and the island and his cruelty a-a-and the experiments h-he did to make you a perfect hybrid, y-you’re just _ like _ him. You don’t give a shit about _ anyone _as you get whatever the hell you want out of us!”

For once, the smile disappeared off Amerou’s face. He even looked shocked for a moment at the accusation. Jackson stiffened up as he saw a flicker of something flash across his features, before his muzzle twisted up in an angry snarl and he violently grabbed her by the throat.

Frankie let out a strangled shriek as his large meaty hand easily wrapped around almost the entire length of her neck.

“Watch where you fling those words,” Amerou growled in her face, “I’ve shown you more mercy than I ever did for your pathetic little friends, _ dear _Frankie, but don’t believe I wouldn’t hesitate to rip that pretty little tongue of your straight out of your mouth.”

“Leave her alone!” Jackson yelled, “Get your filthy paws off her!”

Amerou let Frankie go with a rough shove. She arched against the table as she panted, trying to catch her breath as the pressure against her airway was relieved.

Jackson was about to ask her if she was okay, but right as the words came to his lips, a thought came to him. The comment Frankie had said just now- specifically, the mentions of an island, an experiment, and the “perfect” hybrid- nagged at him. Where had he heard something along those lines before?

_ Hybrid...island...hybrid...island… _

Then, suddenly, it hit him.

“You’re one of them,” he spoke up.

Amerou turned to him, an irritated look on his face. “What did you just say?”

“Y-You’re one of them,” Jackson repeated, looking up at him, “One of- o-one of the Beast Folk. Y-You’re one of those hybrids that was created, just like Dr. Moreau was-”

He was cut off as Amerou immediately let out an ear-splitting roar and, without any warning, backhanded him across the face. Jackson’s head snapped to the side sharply; his glasses flew off his face and were sent skidding across the concrete floor, while a shower of spit was sent spraying from his lips.

“_ Never _ mention that man around me again!” Amerou demanded, “I will not hear of that bastard in my presence _ ever _again, or I’ll kill you both on the spot, got it?!”

Jackson reeled from the hit. The force of the smack was hard enough to split his lip and already his cheek was swelling and turning light purple. His face felt like it was going numb on that side. He ignored it, though, and looked back up at Amerou with his eyes narrowed in confirmation.

“S-So you are,” he said, “O-One of them, just like Jane’s stepdad.”

Amerou glared at him like he wanted to just rip his face off with his jaws. The corner of his mouth turned up in a vicious snarl. His meaty hands were flexing like they were itching to dig into the brunette’s flesh.

He didn’t, though. Instead, Amerou took a deep breath and closed his eyes, before he let it out. When he spoke next, his deep voice was heavy with such resentment and malice it made Jackson and Frankie’s skin crawl.

“Not to go on all fours: That is the Law. Are we not men?” he rehearsed, staring ahead at the beam like he wanted to melt it.

“Not to suck up drink: That is the law. Are we not men?” he repeated, his hands balling into fists, “Not to eat fish or flesh: that is the law. Are we not _ men?” _

He spat the word like venom at Jackson and his voice grew louder with every statement. “Not to claw at the bark of trees: That is the law. Are not men?

“Not to chase other men: That is the LAW!” he shouted, “Are we not _ MEN _?!”

He reared his head back and let loose a vicious squeal that sounded like an angry boar on the rampage, before he lunged for the beam Jackson was tied to and swiped at it. His claws struck the wood and took a good handful of chunks right out of it, leaving deep gouges in the surface that made the beam shake with the force of it.

Amerou pulled away and looked down at Jackson, his muzzle twisted up in an expression of hatred, his eyes wild.

“Do you have _any _idea what it’s like to go day in and day out having to act like a completely different person than who you are?!” he questioned the brunette, “To act a completely different _species?! _To have to go on pretending the urge isn’t there, that the pain isn’t there, that the all-consuming awareness that you’re not who this person wants you to be isn’t _there?!_

“That was all he cared about, his stupid fucking desire of achieving the ‘perfect’ definition of ‘man,’” he spat, “We were nothing but his stupid fucking props to pick apart and put back together for his own fucking dream! He couldn’t have given a damn about us as long as we continued to be ‘imperfect’ and in need of ‘improvement.’ Not unless we achieved ‘true’ humanity like his fucking perfect little werecat daughter.”

Amerou’s lip twisted up at the mention of the girl, like just thinking about the person left a bad taste in his mouth. He held his hands up in front of Jackson.

“Do you know what it’s like to have to deny what you are, just to appease someone? Just to be able to spare yourself even a day of being cut open and prodded at and _ tortured _ ? It didn’t just stop at the experiments,” Amerou continued, “He wanted us to think of him as our _ God. _That was truly the cause of his motivation- not to achieve the perfect definition of man, but so he could have his own little cult of followers that he could punish and pleasure as he pleased.”

A hand flew to his side. Underneath it, Jackson and Frankie could see clearly see a rectangular-shaped scar under his ribs from where it looked like the flesh had been torn off. Amerou held it like the area still pained him, but his expression was full of anger.

“We are _ not _men!” he growled, “We were not born of a human woman’s womb, our bodies were not meant to walk upright like some gangling little birds, we were not meant to eat leaves and corn and beans like a thing of fucking rabbits!

“We are _ beasts! _ We were meant to hunt and kill and run wild!” he exclaimed, “Yet all that my father could care about was ‘civilizing’ us, making us bow to him like we were nothing but lowly savages that needed to be tamed. Like our only purpose was to please the _ man _and serve him like slaves.”

He made a noise of disgust and held his arms out as if to emphasize the entire room.

“Then,” he continued, “Then, when the man is finally dead and me and my brethren think we’re finally _ free, _ what happens? That goddamn man, that damn _ intruder _ , kills me all because I followed my instinct and slaughtered his pathetic little dog friend. I was put down like a goddamn _ pet _ whose owners decided I was too much to handle! Do you know how fucking _ inferior _that makes you feel?! To know you can never live your own life in peace unless you reject everything you love and reshape yourself into what everyone else wants you to be?!”

He started to pace back and forth, like he was gathering his thoughts. Frankie watched him walk to the end of he room, before her gaze quickly shot to Jackson. Her eyes were the size of saucers. She whimpered at him. He tried not to stare at her bleeding arm and could only hope the light and blood was making it look worse than it really was.

_ What do we do? _She seemed to ask him, too scared to be able to think of any kind of plan.

_ Don’t worry, _ Jackson tried to communicate with his eyes, _ I’m going to get you out of here. _

He didn’t have a plan either, though, and didn’t look even half as confident as he thought he was trying to be. He tried looking over his shoulder at his wrists and pulled. The shoestring wouldn’t budge, and with how tight it was drawn, it was even threatening to cut off his circulation.

They both turned their attention back to Amerou as he turned on his heel and started pacing towards them. His deeply lined brow was furrowed in thought.

“You know what the worst part is?” he asked them, “I couldn’t find reverie in death. I couldn’t even be given the chance to forget my memories or turn my body back to the way I was born, the way I was _ destined _to be. Instead I was stuck like this!”

He held out his arms, glaring down at the thick medical scars that coated his skin with hatred. His claws curled inward to his palms and he shook them at the two teens.

“This, this disgusting, broken body!” Amerou hissed, “This horrific feeling of _ awareness _, of sentience of knowing what you are and that you’re a freak! That I had never belong and would never belong! Not even among the ghosts in the Spirit World was I welcomed! They stared at me like I was a blight, some sort of stain that needed to be wiped away! Do you know how much that scars, to know that no matter where or what or who you are you, you will never truly belong?!”

He shook his head and looked out into space in memory. Jackson could see the veins on the back of his hands bulging beneath his skin, while a similar one was pulsing out along his neck like it was a fat leech that had attached itself there. Amerou wrinkled his nose, before he turned back to them. He eyed the two of them like their mere presence made him sick.

“Over a hundred years, I was stuck in that world,” he began again, “And then...Then, come the new millennium, there is a breaking report. Ghosts can actually go to the living world, they say! There’s communities there, away from the humans, where we can live in peace amongst people like us! Finally, _ finally, _I may just have a second chance at this life!”

His eyes brightened for a moment, “Finally, I may be able to find somewhere where I’m no longer an abomination! No longer some failure of an overzealous man’s science experiment! Could it be that I could possibly, finally, live my life as the animal I was born to be?”

The flicker went out of his eyes and they darkened with hatred. His face went stony and he frowned deeply. He raised his head.

“And then, I get to the living world again, and what do I see?” he questioned them, “Nothing but the same _ exact _ ordeal as I was forced to go through on the island, only expanded! Only now, everyone _ welcomes _ this! Lycans are living in houses and _ buying _ their food, mermaids and sea creatures grow gardens and give _ tours _to visitors whereas only a hundred years ago they would’ve dragged these people screaming the depths of the ocean for the pollution of their precious home!

“Everyone has _ given up! _ They’ve turned away from their nature, their instinct! And for what?!” Amerou interrogated, “To be _ civilized?! _To try and ‘get along’ and maintain this charade that somehow we can all live in peace, to please the humans?! As if those same humans are not still the ones destroying our habitats, hunting our people for sport, constantly tightening the leash around our necks in hopes of one day eliminating us for good?! It’s disgusting, I tell you!

“Disgusting!” he repeated, “The way you all have allowed yourselves to turn away from everything your ancestors fought for, killed for, died for, all so you can live in this fantasy world of foolish ideals like ‘peace’ and ‘harmony’, all the while licking the boots of those pathetic flesh bags who would sooner mount your heads on a wall than ever even so much as welcome you into their home!”

Jackson stared at the hyena man, baffled by what he was hearing. When Amerou first started going off, Jackson thought he was just rambling madly after Jackson had managed to connect the dots between him and Dr. Moreau.

Now, though, as Amerou divulged more information about his life, it suddenly hit him on what Amerou seemed to be getting at.

“S-So that’s why you did all this?!” he questioned in disbelief, “Some sort of petty revenge against humanity or monsterkind or some bullshit like that?! You were angry at how monsters have adapted over the years so you kidnapped and killed our friends, for what? So you could somehow drive home sort of ‘remember who you are’ bullshit?!”

Amerou sneered at him, “This town was in need of a wake-up call. You all go about with your head in the clouds, thinking you’re spared from the humans’ wrath, because why? Because you go to a party or two with them? Because your little school preaches about ‘be yourself, be a monster’ yet consistently punishes those who choose to go along with their true monster heritage? How can you preach about embracing who someone is and yet deny that they embrace it to the fullest extent.

“It’s a _ lie _, is what it is,” he spat, “A fucking charade. You let yourselves be stepped all to please the people who would rather you be in chains, and don’t even intend to fight back against them until it’s already too late! Was it not only a year ago that you all allowed a human on to the property of Monster High who then proceeded to kidnap your principal and try and create a race war between the lycans and vampires of your recent integration?! Or that another human came and tried to enslave you all to put in his freakshow for other humans to gawk at like you were little more than their personal toy?!”

He looked between the both of them with anger. “And you- you all want to judge _ me _on my brutality, on my inhumanity, but what about the lot of you? You all want to have your cake and eat it too and disown those who make you seem like savages or true monsters, but all the while you still want to partake in your own form of viciousness.”

He pointed at Jackson accusingly, “Like your other half- is Holt not merely a physical manifestation of your _ true _feelings? Did your ancestor not create the Hyde lineage so he could explore the evil within himself without any repercussions of his actions?!

“Or what about Frankie, here?” Amerou questioned as he turned and pointed at her, “How many graves did Frankenstein’s creature and his bride rob to get the parts they needed? How many Jane Does did your parents cut up so they could have all they wanted for their ‘precious’ little girl?!”

He gestured to Jackson again and made a circle with his index finger. “It’s all the same,” Amerou insisted, “You all want to gain the approval of the humans and show that you’re not the terrors in the storybooks they read about, but yet you still want to engage in the darkest parts of yourselves that you claim to hate.”

Turning to face the blue-eyed teen, Amerou bent down and brought his face up to Jackson’s until they were nearly nose-to-nose. Jackson stared into his crazed yellow eyes, trying not to gag at the horrific stench of the hybrid man’s breath. He detected a disturbing undertone of raw meat.

“Face it,” Amerou growled, “No matter how much you try to dress like them, act like them, talk like them, you all can never get away from _ who _you really are.”

They stared at each for a full minute. Jackson clenched his fists from where they were restrained as he felt sweat run down his brow as Amerou kept eye contact with him.

“You’re...you’re fucking deranged,” he rasped out.

“Perhaps,” Amerou said as he stood up. He ran a hand through his hair, “Perhaps it’s just in my nature.”

A sickly playful smile came onto his face as he glanced back down at the normie. Amerou’s eyes twinkled in a way that made Jackson stiffen with restlessness at whatever he had in mind. It was like that of a child who had just thought of a really fun idea.

“The time for talking is gone, though,” Amerou said, “And since it seems you two may be my last pair for a while, I think it’s only fair that I give the same chance as I did the others.

“This will a final test, if you will,” he continued, “Just like the others: a test to see if you _ really _still have that inner monster in you, that you can truly hold your own and maintain your reputation as a force to be reckoned with as you and that blue twat you share a body with love to make yourselves out to be. Or, if you have truly lost your way and are beyond all hope.”

Jackson’s heart skipped a beat as Amerou turned away and picked up the knife from where he had left it by Frankie’s side. He could hear Frankie let out a terrified gasp.

“What will you do, when the one you love most is in harm’s way, right in front of you?” Amerou asked him, “Will you let Mr. Hyde take over and embrace the bloodlust within you, or will you simply lie there and cower?”

“NO!” Jackson yelled, throwing himself forward, struggling against the beam, “No, leave her alone! She never did anything!”

“Nobody’s ever done anything,” Amerou remarked snidely, “That’s what they all say. And yet still, the innocent get hurt and the guilty go away without so much as a mark for their misdeeds.”

He turned and smiled down at Frankie, holding the knife in front of him.

“N-N-N-No, please don’t,” Frankie mewled, her breathing quickly starting to go shallow, “Please, please, please, please! Please, no! No!”

“NO! NO!” Jackson screamed, his thrashing against the beam growing more desperate. His wrists were stung as the shoestring chaffed against them until the skin grew raw, but he barely noticed as he fought with all his might to break their hold.

He wasn’t strong like a werewolf or a vampire, however, and already Jackson was finding himself worn down from the exertion.

_ No, goddammit, no! _ He screamed at himself, _ Not her! Goddamn you, he will NOT hurt her _ _ ! _

In front of him, he could hear Frankie cry loudly as Amerou grabbed her shirt from under the restraint belt and lift it up, exposing her stomach to him.

“Let’s see just what organs you have, shall we?” Amerou asked her in mockery as he began to lower the knife.

“NO!” Frankie half-screamed, half-sobbed, “NO! PLEASE! PLEASE, NO! NO!”

“Frankie!” Jackson yelled.

_ You were always too weak, _ a scathing part of his mind hissed at him, _ Too meek , too quiet, too much of a fucking coward to fight back. It was always HER standing up for you, or Holt. Never you. When your friends needed you, where were you to speak for them? Nowhere to be found, that’s where you were. Always fucking hiding away, letting yourself go speechless like a little pussy. _

Something unfamiliar began to bloom in Jackson’s chest. He stopped struggling against his restraints for a minute as he became focused on the voice in his head, becoming numb to everything around him except it and Frankie’s cries. He didn’t even take notice of the fact his wrists were bleeding now.

_ He’s right, _ the voice mocked, _ You could never defend her when she needed you. It was always ** Holt ** doing that. He knows what he is and what he wants. You just choose to blend in and take it like a little bitch. You don’t deserve her. _

_ And now look, he’s going to hurt her- possibly ** kill ** her- and you can’t do a damn thing. Holt can’t even come save her, and it’s going to be all your fault, because you’ve never been anything but a worthless coward. _

The blooming feeling in his chest grew.

It was raw, black hatred.

Jackson didn’t think he had ever felt this way before. Not even towards the people who had bullied him in school or the people who’d whisper behind his back when they found out about his family.

Now, though, it boiled his blood like his whole body had become a living oven. It sent his temperature through the roof. A bright red haze took over his vision, making him only focused on the people in front of him.

_ He’s going to hurt Frankie, _the voice taunted.

_ He’s going to hurt her and you can’t do a damn thing but watch. _

_ No… _he thought.

_ You never deserved her. Holt was right all along. She needs someone who can actually fight back, who will step up to the plate. You never had it in you. You’re just a worthless, sniveling bag of bones. _

_ No... _

_ You let them all get hurt and you just stood back. _

_ NO! _

_ If she dies, it’s all on you. _

_ ** NO! ** _

“Agh!” Frankie cried out as she felt Amerou press the tip of the knife against her belly, the metal sharp and cold, “No, no, please-”

“NO!” Jackson screamed.

Suddenly, his hands erupted into flame.

Amerou and Frankie were both blinded as a giant flash of bright yellow light burst out from behind them. Amerou turned around in surprise, just in time to see Jackson suddenly fall forward as the shoestring that kept his hands tied around the beam was immediately incinerated by the flame, freeing him. He fell onto his hands and knees to catch himself. His wrists were bright red and bloody with irritation.

“What the hell?!” Amerou exclaimed.

Jackson’s head shot up and he glared at the hybrid.

Only now, instead of dark blue, his eyes were glowing an unearthly yellow color, as if his entire body was filled with fire.

Before Amerou could react, Jackson let out a wild, animal-like scream and shot his head forward, sending a stream of fire straight at Mr. Amerou’s chest. It hit the large hybrid dead on, sending him flying. Frankie screamed as it dragged across the side of her stomach, before it was yanked away. Amerou flew backwards and landed spread eagle on his back. The knife flew out his hands and slid out of sight somewhere on the floor.

Frankie gasped at what she was seeing. She knew that Jackson and Holt were half-fire elemental from their dad, but Holt seemed to be the only one who carried some of the same abilities. According to Jackson, his human heritage, combined with his confusing genes of the Jekyll-Hyde lineage, seemed to cancel out any fire abilities he could’ve had if he was more full blooded like Heath.

Until now.

Now, the inferno within him had awakened, his rage serving as the gasoline that allowed him to free himself.

Jackson didn’t hesitate as Amerou hit the floor. He shot to his feet and lunged for the hybrid.

His eyes quickly darted to the right of where Amerou had landed. By the hybrid’s head, below the small sink installed into the wall, a pile of concrete bricks rested.

Amerou, dazed, pushed himself onto his elbows with a groan. His chest stung from where he’d been burned. A large patch of his fur had been seared away and the skin was now bright red and bubbling with blisters.

Jackson tackled him again, pinning him against the floor. Straddling the old monster’s waist, he dove for the pile of concrete bricks and took one in his hand.

Without a second thought, he raised it above his head and brought it down straight onto Amerou’s head.

“Ack!” Amerou yelled out as his vision exploded in white as the brick collided against his large brow. The skin on his forehead split open and a spray of blood burst from the wound. A sickening crack echoed in his ears as he heard his own skull fracture.

“_ Jackson!” _Frankie screamed in horror.

Jackson didn’t hear her. He raised the brick again, his teeth bared and his eyes dark sapphire with hatred as he glared down at the dazed monster. Amerou groaned underneath him, clearly disoriented as to what was going on.

All Jackson could think of, though, was everything that had happened in the last few months. The fear everyone in town faced at who could be next. The horror of finding out another person had gone missing, that another person had died.

_ He hurt Frankie. _

_ He hurt Heath . _

_He killed Gil. _

_ H e almost killed Clawd. _

_ He was going to hurt you. _

_ He wouldn’t have stopped. He was going to hurt all of them, kill all of them, for as long as he wanted. _

_ All for his fucking stupid-fucking rationale of “awakening” instinct. _

_ He needs to pay. _

Hatred flowed through his veins like never before. The glow of fire had left his eyes, but Jackson felt like he was ready to burst into flame right then and there. The rage that he felt staring down at the pig-hyena monster made his heart race. The red haze blinded him to other rationale.

_ He needs to die, _ he thought darkly, _ He needs to pay. _

Amerou groaned and opened his eyes. They widened as he saw the human brunette sitting on him, a brick raised in his hands.

His head wound slowed his reflexes and his thinking. All Amerou could do was try and raise his hands up.

“W-Wait!” he exclaimed sluggishly, “Don’t-”

Jackson didn’t listen and brought the brick down again, shattering his nose.

He raised it and brought it down again.

And again. And again. And again.

He moved faster. He put more force into every hit. He felt bone crack and shatter and something soft squish and give beneath him as he slammed the brick down, hit after hit. Blood splattered on his face and his clothes.

Behind him, Frankie was shrieking.

“_ JACKSON!” _ she screamed, watching in terror as he bludgeoned Amerou under him, “ _ JACKSON! JACKSON, STOP! STOP, HE’S ALREADY DEAD! STOP IT!” _

Jackson didn’t hear her. He kept bringing down the brick again and again on Amerou’s head. Blood spread out under the two of them in a thick puddle. Jackson kept screaming and panting as he did, as if he had to make sure that the man was dead.

The burning in his body wouldn’t go away.

He wanted to make sure the bastard felt every bit of pain as his friends did. He wanted to make sure he hurt. That he suffered.

He wanted him to die. And now, he could. And nothing could stop him.

He screamed himself hoarse and brought the brick down once more. His arms were growing tired but he didn’t even notice the ache. Amerou’s face was now nothing more than pitiful, gory mess of bloody tissue and bone.

“JACKSON!” Frankie screamed again, seeing that her boyfriend wasn’t stopping, even as Mr. Amerou stopped moving beneath him and went still.

This wasn’t the Jackson that she knew. She hardly recognized him. His face was twisted up in a feral snarl, his eyes dark and wide with such loathing that it scared her. She had never seen him like this before.

He was covered in blood. Oh, _ god, _there was so much blood…

“Jackson!” she cried, devastated at seeing him like this, “JACKSON! Jackson, stop, please!”

She struggled against her restraints once more, trying to ignore the pain in her stomach from where the knife had clipped her. This time, though, she felt a small bit of give; Frankie looked down to see that, as the knife was torn away from her, it had slit through quite a bit of the restraint around her chest.

Desperately, Frankie hurled her weight to the left and yanked at the tear in the leather. It resisted, but after two or three tugs, it finally snapped and went slack and the pressure pinning her to the table relieved.

Frankie pulled her arms loose and pushed herself into a sitting position using the stumps of her wrists, before she slipped them under the restraint that was resting against her thighs. It lifted just enough for her to scoot her legs out.

Without her hands or feet to steady her, Frankie cried out as she pushed herself back with too much force and ended up falling off the table. She landed on her stomach and hissed as she felt her knees bang against the concrete hard.

She pushed the pain aside, though, as she lifted herself onto her elbows and looked up. Her eyes widened as she saw Jackson was still pounding away at Amerou with the brick.

He was panting as the constant exertion of his arms put him out of breath, but he still brought the brick up and down like he couldn’t stop. It and his hands were covered in blood. His face was splattered with it. Blood pooled out from under Amerou’s body and soaked into Jackson’s jeans and socks.

“Jackson!” Frankie screamed again, crawling towards him on her stumps, “Jackson, stop! Please, _ stop!” _

She threw herself at him just as he raised the brick again. Frankie reached up with the stumps of her arms and wrapped them around his left one, attempting to pull it away from the brick.

“NO!” Jackson yelled, yanking away from her, “NO! HE DESERVES IT! HE FUCKING DESERVES IT!”

“Jackson, please!” Frankie cried, throwing her arms around his neck, “Please, stop! It’s over! You’ve did it, you stopped him!”

She buried her face into his neck and sobbed heavily. “Please, just _ stop.” _

Jackson froze.

He turned to her. Frankie lifted her head and stared at him, her heterochromatic eyes large and wet, silently pleading with him to stop. Tears ran down her cheeks and her chin and snot dripped from her nose.

“Please...” Frankie begged in a small voice.

Jackson’s expression went slack and pale. His own eyes widened in some kind of realization.

He lowered the brick and stared down at it, as if it just now registered to him what he was doing. It was heavily coated in blood and bits of tissue. Blood drenched his hands and settled in the cracks of his skin and dried under his fingernails. Slowly, Jackson looked up from it at Amerou.

You couldn’t even tell where the hybrid’s face began and ended. His entire head was a smashed ruin of blood, muscle, and brain matter. Jackson could see a few of his teeth scattered in the mess. He could feel his blood all over him. It dried in his hair and on his face and discolored brown on his clothes.

Amerou’s words came flying back at him.

_ A test to see if you really still have that inner monster in you, that you can truly hold your own and maintain your reputation as a force to be reckoned with as you and that blue twat you share a body with love to make yourselves out to be, _was what the beast man had said.

_ Will you let Mr. Hyde take over and embrace the bloodlust within you? _He had asked.

A pit opened up in his stomach. Jackson suddenly felt like he was going to throw up.

All this time, they were worried about what Holt was capable of. Yet, here he was...he...he was the one who did this…

He..._ he _had killed somebody.

From upstairs, there was a sudden rumbling of footsteps.

“_POLICE!” _ some man yelled, “ _ STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” _

The footsteps spread throughout the house. Frankie and Jackson both looked towards the stairs as they heard someone come thundering down the steps. A moment later, a freshwater monster and a cyborg appeared, their guns drawn in front of them.

“This is the police!” Grindylow was in the middle of saying, “We have you surrounded-”

He stopped as he turned and his gaze fell upon the teenagers. Grindylow lowered his gun as his mouth fell open in shock.

Firth, who was scoping out the left side of the room, turned and paused right next to his partner. His eyes widened. Frankie Stein sat there on the floor, missing her hands and feet and hugging the brunette human boy who was on his knees beside her. Underneath him, Hyena Swine’s bludgeoned corpse lay like a oversized piece of roadkill. There was a bloodied brick in the young man’s hands.

For a second, nobody moved. The four of them stared at each other, everyone looking like they were in some degree of shock.

Then, all of a sudden, Jackson let out a small giggle.

“He...hehehehe...”

Frankie whirled around to him. “J-J-Jackson?”

Jackson smiled. His shoulders lightly bounced up and down as he chuckled.

“Hehehehehe...It really does run in the family, doesn’t it?” he said, dropping the brick to look down at his bloody hands, “He was right...”

He looked at Frankie. The smile on his face was hollow. It hit her in the chest like someone had stabbed her through the heart.

Jackson laughed, “He was right! It’s history repeating itself! Hehehehehe, we were so scared of what _ Hyde _ would do, we forgot that it’s the _ Jekyll _thought that counts! Hehehehe!”

He put his finger to his temple. “Hehehehe!” he laughed some more, “It runs in the family, all right! Hehehehehe!”

Frankie and the detectives jumped as Jackson reared his head back and suddenly let out a loud, hysterical laugh.

“HAHAHAHAHAH! HE WAS RIGHT!” the brunette was nearly screaming, “I AM A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

There were tears streaming down his cheeks, but he laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. His face went red as he struggled to catch his breath, only to burst out cackling right after inhaling. Jackson reached up and grasped handfuls of his hair.

“HAHAHAHA!” he laughed, “IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY! IT REALLY DOES! HAHAHAHAH!”

He fell backward onto the floor as he kept on guffawing. Frankie watched him, horrified. She brought her wrists to her chest.

“Jackson...” she said in a small voice, terrified at the sight.

Grindylow and Firth watched them, their expressions downcast and saddened. Grindylow let his gun fall to his side. He watched the hysterical human boy with a pang of sympathy.

It was clear what had happened. There was not any trace of humor to be found in those laughs. They were the laughs of a man whose entire world had crumbled around him. A man who was on the edge of losing his mind.

Holstering his gun, Grindylow reached for the walkie talkie at his belt and pressed the speaker button.

“This is Grindylow,” he announced, “Reporting a 12-94. Emergency has been dismantled. Suspect has been...terminated.”

* * *

Clawdeen sat bent over, the side of her head resting against her arms as she watched Romulus sleep. He gave a small groan as his mouth twisted into a pained grimace, his head slowly turning back and forth like he was trying to shake off whatever he was dreaming about.

“N-N...No...” he muttered, his eyelids twitching rapidly. As he turned his head again, a loose lock of his hair fell in his face. Clawdeen reached up to brush it back.

“Anything different?” a voice asked from behind.

Clawdeen lifted her head and turned to see Rhea standing behind her. The older redhead held a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. Clawdeen shook her head.

“That’s good,” Rhea said with a tired smile, turning her gaze back to Romulus, “That’s really good.”

She reached over and gently tucked the loose strand of hair back in its place, before she let her hand drift over Romulus’s cheek. He let out another soft noise and subconsciously cuddled against her palm.

“My baby boy,” Rhea said to Clawdeen, “Back where he belongs.”

She leaned over and kissed Rom’s forehead. Clawdeen didn’t respond and just watched silently, before she pulled her phone out and checked the time.

It was a quarter to ten. Still no word about Frankie. Clawdeen gripped her phone tightly as the worry she’d been feeling eating away at her all night came back in full force. She felt a bit guilty; she’d been so concerned with wanting to see Romulus that, for a small amount of time, she forgot all about how her best friend was still missing out there.

As if on a jinx, however, her phone screen suddenly lit up with a text. Clawdeen’s eyes widened as she saw who it was from.

_ F rankie: On way to the hospital. The detectives are bringing me n Jackson _

She had sent it through the group chat that they had with Cleo, Laura, Lagoona, and Ghoulia. Clawdeen shot out of her seat. Rhea jumped at the sudden action.

“What? What happened?” she asked, looking at Clawdeen.

Before Clawdeen could reply, there was the sound of someone running in the hallway, before Laura suddenly appeared, her hair flinging wildly in her face.

“Deen!” she exclaimed, “Did you get the-”

“Yeah,” Clawdeen answered, rushing towards her.

She gave Rhea a quick remark that she would be back, before her and Laura rushed out of the room and hurriedly walked down the hallway. At the desk, they could see Frankie’s parents talking to an officer as Cleo and the rest of their friends waited anxiously. Viktor was holding Viveka tightly to his chest.

Cleo perked up as they approached. “Did you guys see it?!”

“Just got it,” Clawdeen confirmed, “If she’s texting on her own, do you think that means…?”

Laura replied, “If the detectives are the ones taking her back, then that has to mean that she wasn’t hurt. Hopefully. But how did Jackson get picked up with them?”

“I heard Heath earlier say he wasn’t answering his phone,” Deuce interjected, “Maybe something went down and he managed to meet them halfway?”

Before any of them could dwell on it further, the elevators opened and revealed Detective Grindylow, Detective Firth, Frankie, and Jackson as they all stepped onto the level.

Everyone gasped as they took in their friends’ appearance. Frankie was being pushed in a wheelchair by Firth, her hands and feet having somehow been detached from her limbs and now lying in a pile on her lap. Her forearm was bandaged below her elbow. She looked disheveled and even maybe in a bit of shock, but otherwise, luckily, she looked fine.

It was Jackson’s appearance, however, that made them all take a step back. His clothes were completely covered in blood and there were waterproof bandages around both his wrists. His hair was sticking up in all directions like he had attempted to pull tufts of it out, his skin was paler than a vampire’s, and there was a disturbing, haunted look in his eyes behind his glasses as he kept his gaze to the floor. His movements were stiff and robotic. His hands hung at his sides; Laura and Clawdeen shared a look as they caught dried blood under his fingernails.

“Frankie!” Viveka cried, breaking free from Viktor’s embrace to rush towards her.

Frankie lifted her head and held out her arms as her parents rushed towards her. Viveka went to her knees and wrapped her arms tightly around her, tucking her head into her shoulder.

“Oh, _ liebling _, we were so worried!” Viveka cried as she pulled back to look over her daughter, “Are you okay?!”

“M-Mr. Amerou,” Frankie stuttered, “H-H-He was the killer...”

“We know,” Viktor said as he drew her close to his chest, “Oh, _ gott, _we realized it with the detectives and we were so scared. Did he hurt you?”

His expression turned from shock to angry as he took in her injured arm and her disconnected limbs.

“She has a cut on her arm and a small laceration near her hip,” Detective Firth answered, “But the paramedics said it was nothing too deep and didn’t require any stitches. They didn’t know how the process of sewing limbs back on, especially with your design, so we thought we’d just wait until you saw to her.”

Viktor’s eyes were blazing as he tore his gaze away from Frankie and looked up at the detectives. He stood up to his full height.

“Where is he?” he demanded, “Please to god tell me you managed to catch the man who did this, that sorry-”

“He’s dead,” Grindylow answered, frowning in dismay.

Everyone paused. They gaped at him and Firth. The teens exchanged looks with each other, as if not quite hearing him correctly.

“...W-W-What?” Clawdeen answered, “Y-You mean it? Like...for real dead? Or figuratively dead?”

Grindylow looked towards her. He opened his mouth and was about to answer her, but before anything came out, Jackson suddenly spoke up.

“It was me,” he muttered.

Everyone glanced towards him. Frankie pulled away from her mom to turn in his direction. Her lip quivered like she was about to cry. The girls and Deuce looked at him in shock, but Jackson kept his gaze glued to the floor.

“It was me,” he repeated, “I...I...oh god...”

His face crumpled. His eyes turned sorrowful. He buried his hands in his hair and sank to his knees onto the floor, suddenly frantic.

“Oh _ god, _ I did it!” he yelled, “I did it! I did it! I did that! Oh god, help me, I did _ that!” _

He covered his face in his hands and bent over as he broke down into harsh sobs. Through his hands, they could hear him cry “I did, oh god help me, oh god, oh god!”

Everyone stood around, staring at him, completely at a loss of what to do. Viveka and Viktor stared at him, horrified at the confession they had just heard. Deuce and the girls exchanged another look; nobody knew what to do or how to comfort him. Nobody knew if they _ could _comfort him.

“Jackson...” Frankie said in a thick voice, now crying again.

Before Viveka or Viktor could react, she climbed out of the wheelchair and stumbled onto the floor. She dragged herself on her incomplete limbs over to her boyfriend.

“Jackson,” she repeated, her voice cracking, “Jackson, oh Jackson...”

She stood up on her knees and wrapped her handless arms around Jackson’s neck and pulled him close. Jackson threw his arms around her and buried his head into the crook of her neck, sobbing heavily into her hair. His fingers dug into the fabric of her sweater for dear unlife. Together, they held each other as they rocked back and forth, both of them crying heavily.

Everyone stood around and watched the scene with heavy hearts.

It was finally over.

But right now, there was no telling as to at what cost it had come at.


	21. Epilogue: Fallen Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to me for writing this whole 12k+ document in a single day, lol.

_Two weeks later_

* * *

_The New Salem Tribune_

_December 17th, 2014_

_ALLEGED KILLER IDENTIFIED_

_The three month manhunt for a serial killer who kidnapped teens from the New Salem area and taunted police with letters about his victims finally ended December third with bittersweet results, as authorities stated they finally uncovered the identity of the man that other local news stations have since come to call the New Salem Slasher. The aforementioned killer has been identified with being responsible for at least eight murders in the local area, and, as details emerge, may be responsible for even more. _

_The suspect- identified as one hundred and twenty-two year old Nidae Amerou- was pronounced dead at the scene as New Salem law enforcement raided his home, after a tip-off identified him from a police sketch that police had obtained from law enforcement in Killsboro. _

_Public records indicate that he was unmarried and had no known children at the time of his death. _

_The raid came mere hours after a phone call to emergency services alerted police to the discovery of a a girl- reported missing only just that night- having been found chained up in a storage unit on the property of Solomon Grundy, who ran Grundy’s Storage and Rental Trucking. Police searched the scene and found all ten of the remaining missing teens from Monster High, who seemed to have been kept prisoner in the units for the length of time that they had disappeared. _

_Grundy’s body was also found, having been discovered in a state of decomposition in his office on the property. Police say that the cause of death was repeated blunt force trauma to the head and blood loss from mauling; they are attributing Amerou to the murder. Grundy was a hundred and twenty. His family has yet to comment on his death. _

_Amerou, police say, was born Hyena Swine, a pig-hyena hybrid created on the infamous Concordia Island- often nicknamed “Horror Island”- that belonged to famed geneticist Edwin Moreau, whose exploits in creating animal-human hybrids and abusive methods of making them assimilate into human life became the subject of the novel **The Island of Dr. Moreau **by human author Herbert Wells. _

_Originally, Amerou was killed on the island in 1896, and thus moved onto the Spirit World, where he spent the last hundred and ten years working meager jobs. Statements from ghosts in the Spirit World who were familiar with Amerou said he had a hard time adapting to his newly undead life and remained rather reclusive for his duration there. _

_Police say that, back in mid 2013, Amerou migrated to the living monster world, in Yukon, Canada, where his struggle to adapt to the modern world persisted. He would then leave his home and move through Clawnada into the Pacific Northwest of the United States, seemingly living as a vagabond. _

_As he moved, they say, it was then he’d begin his early reign of terror. Police have so far linked Amerou to at least thirty murders in Yukon, British Columbia, and Washington, from between November of 2013 to May of this year. All victims were said to have been documented as missing persons, before their remains would eventually be uncovered weeks later. _

_It seems that Amerou finally settled in New Salem in June of this year, where he worked part-time as a janitor and received disability benefits due to medical negligence that he experienced on Concordia. _

_In terms of a motive, police theorize that Amerou grew disgruntled with the modernization of monsters, possibly because of his own past trauma and his difficulties reconciling his animal instincts with his humanoid ones. _

_The New Salem Slasher, as he would become to be known, first began to stoke fears in the town of New Salem back in October, when he kidnapped three local students out jogging and police were unable to find a solid trace of the perpetrator. Two of the missing students, eighteen-year-old Moorisey Surrey and seventeen-year-old Harper Quill, would be found dead in November under an overpass. Hellvira Karnstein, the third victim and only survivor of the trio, was confirmed among those kept prisoner at the rental property. Her family says she is badly shaken and coping with the events of the last few months, but is otherwise in good health. _

_Over the course of the next three months, Amerou would be responsible for the disappearances of a total of seventeen people in New Salem, all of which were students at Monster High. Two of the missing students, Clawd Wolf and Silvi Timberwolf, were suddenly released after months of captivity. They are both currently recovering at New Salem General Hospital. _

_Police further say Amerou used boogie sand to change himself into various forms to commit the kidnappings- mainly that of ghost and boogeyman. With his primal form being ghostly, Amerou was able to enter and leave the crime scenes without leaving a scent, while his boogeyman form allowed him to shadow travel and hence kidnap multiple victims at a time, seemingly with impossible timing. _

_Of the missing seventeen students, seven, tragically, were murdered by Amerou. Along with Moorissey and Harper, the bodies of Gillington Webber, sixteen, Douglas “Dougey” Hairris, eighteen, and Ascena Scarikson, seventeen, were discovered November sixteenth in an abandoned lot near Hexchester. Two more victims, sixteen-year-olds Iris Clops and Purrsephone Catterson, had their bodies discovered on the rental property along with Grundy’s. _

_During the course of the murders, the killer sent letters teasing police of his crimes, where he mocked his victims’ species and ridiculed the police’s inability to figure out his identity. Similarities between the notes of the killer and those found among victims of prior killings in Vancouver and Olympia, Washington. _

_Amerou was also responsible for the attack of four teenagers back in November, during what seemed to be a kidnapping gone wrong. Three of the teens were left in critical condition, but alive and their status has since improved. _

_Police have not yet released the details of Amerou’s death, but have said that Ghost police forces have stepped in and he is back in the Spirit World in custody. _

_New Salem Sheriff Ulysses Effo had this to say: _

“_It has been a long and difficult time for the monsters of New Salem,” he said Thursday morning at a press conference, “Our community has been forced to live in fear as if we are still in the Old World, as our trust in each other and our sense of security has been shaken and broken, all because of one man’s selfish and disgusting need for bringing suffering upon others. _

“_Through these trials we have always endured, though. And it is with a heavy, but grateful heart that I can say, that the man who has become known as ‘the masked man’ is dead, and cannot bring harm upon our town anymore._

“_We know this is but a small feat in relieving the pain that the victims and survivors, as well as their families and friends, have had to endure,” the sheriff added, “But we hope with this news that the town of New Salem is assured that they can finally sleep tonight, and know the worst is over, and begin the journey to healing.” _

* * *

Frankie smoothed down her plain black dress and looked in the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her with eyes that were glassy with exhaustion, with deep, dark circles under them. She had put on concealer and foundation to make herself look presentable, but she still looked like hell.

She hadn’t slept a wink last night. The whole night she was tossing and turning, dreading the events of today.

Today was the memorial for all the slain students at Monster High.

After that were the funerals.

A lump appeared in her throat. Frankie swallowed against it. She looked down at her arm. Gauze and medical tape peeked out from just underneath her sleeve. Under her dress, she could just feel a dull pulse of pain from where the cut above her hip ached.

A knock came to the door.

“_Frankie?” _Alivia called out from the other side, before she went ahead and let herself in; she was also dressed in black, with matching Mary Janes, “Mommy wants to know if you’re ready to go.”

“Y-Y-Yeah,” Frankie answered, “Yeah, hold on, I’m almost done.”

She turned away from the mirror for a second to grab a few elastics and put her hair up in a simple bun, before she grabbed her purse and a black lace cardigan from her chair. She slipped into a pair of black flats and followed Alivia out, shutting her door behind her.

They walked down the stairs in silence, neither sister in the mood for any small talk. Both kept their gazes glued to their shoes.

Downstairs, in the living room, Viktor and Viveka sat in their respective seats. Viveka wore a black wrap dress and heels, while Viktor’s black suit looked a bit too small for his big frame. They raised their heads at the sound of their daughters shuffling down the stairs.

“Vlad’s family is going to meet up with us before we leave,” Viktor said as Frankie and Alivia entered the living room, “He says Clawd, Clawdeen, and Romulus will be with them.”

Frankie nodded, “Okay.”

As she approached, him and Viveka stood up from their seats. Frankie closed her eyes and took great comfort in the feel of her father’s embrace as Viktor wrapped her up in a tight hug. She could feel his large hand on the back of her head, gently smoothing her hair.

Viktor pulled back and gave her a small kiss on the head. “I love you,” he said lowly.

“I love you, too,” Frankie said in response. She pulled away from him and leaned into her mom as Viveka gave her her own hug.

They all turned at the sound of the doorbell ringing. Viktor left the living room and made his way to the front parlor. He looked in the peephole, before he opened the front door.

“Hey, Vlad,” he greeted, stepping aside to let Dracula and them come in. They were all dressed in black attire as well.

They were led into the living room, where Viktor and Viveka urged them all to take a seat. Frankie scooted out of the way to allow Ramoanah and Fangelica to pass her, before she turned her attention to the girls as Laura and Clawdeen came up to her; the boys sat down behind them. Clawd had a pair of crutches with him, which he rested beside him as he sat in the recliner; his foot cast was covered in several signatures. Romulus’s right arm was in a sling, with his hand also in a cast and his middle and index fingers splinted. Frankie could see his hands his other fingers continuously twitching.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hi,” Laura said in return. They exchanged a small hug, before Frankie turned to give Clawdeen one as well.

“Have you heard from everyone else yet?” Frankie asked after they parted.

Clawdeen gave a small sigh, “Cleo says her and Deuce’s parents are already there, to make sure everything’s in place. They’re gonna go pick up Ghoulia and her family, though, and then make their way over. Sirena says her and her parents are going to be there, soon. They picked up Lagoona and her aunt.”

Frankie nodded, taking it all in. Laura looked up at her, her brows furrowed in concern.

“How’s Jackson and Holt?” she asked, “I texted them this morning, but...they haven’t answered me back.”

Frankie pursed her lips together. Her expression faltered a bit as she shook her head in response, looking down to fiddle with her purse straps.

“I don’t know,” she answered, “They haven’t been talking to me, either. Abbey says that...that they’re about to leave. Bloodgood dropped her off at Heath’s house before she left for the school, and they went over to Jackson’s.”

Laura and Clawdeen nodded. They could see that she didn’t seem in the mood to elaborate.

“Would you guys like anything to drink?” Viveka asked them.

Clawdeen shook her head, “I’m fine.”

“No thank you,” Laura said.

Just then, they all heard a small little ringing in the living room. Everyone turned to Dracula, as the ringing came from his pocket. He pulled out his phone and glanced at it, before he put it away. He raised his head to give them all a look.

“Ramses said everything’s ready,” he explained, “Shall we?”

With silent nods, everyone got up. They gathered their purses and phones, before they all headed back out the front door.

It was too beautiful a day, Frankie thought solemnly as they all stepped out and made their way to their respective cars. It was warm and sunny out for early winter, but there was no joy or comfort to be taken in this rare weather.

There was no joy to be found anywhere in town. Not today.

The ride was spent in silence as they made their way to Monster High. As they pulled into the parking lot, Frankie could see hundreds of people making their way into the double doors that led into the auditorium. She recognized her classmates and teachers among them. By the entrance, near the flagpole, she saw Deuce, Cleo, and Ghoulia talking with Slow Moe.

Her and her family got out. Frankie turned to her mom and pointed to where her friends were.

“H-Hey, I’m gonna go talk to them first,” she said, “I-I’ll see if I can find a seat by you guys inside.”

Viveka paused and looked to where she was pointing. Her eyes softened and she looked back at her daughter with a small smile.

“Okay, sweetie,” she said, patting Frankie’s hand, “Just let us know if you find a seat with them somewhere else.”

“I will, Mom,” Frankie replied.

She gave her and Viktor another set of hugs, before Viveka took Alivia’s hands and the three of them headed inside. Frankie watched them go for a second, before she turned and headed to her friends.

Cleo had her arms crossed around her as she leaned against, resting her head against his shoulder as she spoke something to him. She wasn’t wearing her usual haughty expression. Instead, the mummy looked unusually subdued today, and her light blue eyes were soft with sadness. As Frankie and the others came up to them, she lifted her head and lightly tapped Deuce. Him, Ghoulia, and Slow Moe turned to face them.

“Hey, you made it,” Cleo said.

“Well it wasn’t like I had anything else to do today,” Frankie remarked. She looked up ahead at the auditorium, “There a lot of people.”

Cleo turned to look over her shoulder, “Pretty much the whole town. My dad says that we’re lucky this school was built with the idea of housing an entire population for shelter during the Old World.”

She turned to them, “He also says he reserved us a row near the front, if you all want to go in now.”

“I’ll pass,” Clawdeen said, “Rom and I are gonna sit with Howleen. She already got us a seat where the rest of the pack is...”

She looked up at Romulus. He nodded in confirmation. “Sorry, guys.”

“No, no, go ahead!” Deuce exclaimed, “We just wanted to make sure there was room.”

They all turned as up ahead, they heard a sudden loud sound from the auditorium that made everyone in the parking lot turn their heads towards the doors.

Mr. Hack stepped out, dressed in a suit. He gestured to the doors.

“For anyone here for the service, please proceed to head in,” he announced, “We’re going to be starting in about five minutes.”

The mad science teacher looked nothing like his usual self. Instead of his usual manic mirthful smile, he had a calm, melancholic look in his eye, and Frankie could see him talk softly to parents and students as he directed them to certain sections of the auditorium.

Cleo turned back to everyone. “Shall we?”

“Yeah,” Clawd said, adjusting his hold on his crutches, “I need to sit down, my foot’s killing me.”

Him and Laura started for the gym, with Laura resting one hand against his back as he hobbled beside her. Clawdeen and Romulus followed after them; no longer hiding their relationship, Frankie and the others watched their backs as they held hands, their fingers lacing together.

“Um, Deuce,” Frankie said, turning to them, “Have you heard from Jackson or Holt, today? He’s not...he’s not answering me.”

Deuce gave her a look of surprise. “Uh, yeah! He told me he was on his way. I think actually that they might be here already...”

He looked around at the parking lot, his shaded eyes scanning for any familiar trace of yellow. When he couldn’t find any, he gave Frankie an apologetic look.

“Well, if they’re not here, they’re probably already inside,” he said.

Frankie nodded solemnly. She could only hope so.

Ever since that fateful night at Amerou’s house, the boys had been entirely silent to her. Except for a few meager responses, Jackson hadn’t talked to her at all.

She’d been willing to give him space, thinking he needed time. But now, she was starting to think if it was something to do with her that was keeping him quiet…

She pushed it to the back of her mind for now as her and the others gathered up their things and started for the auditorium doors like everyone else was. They shuffled in like sheep being herded through a gate. An endless sea of black.

Save for the sounds of people shuffling in, the auditorium was deathly quiet. As they made their way to the front row, Frankie gazed out at the people who were already seated, catching sight of plenty of familiar faces. All of them in black, all of them sorrowful as they waited for the service to begin.

In the middle row, she saw Clawdeen and Romulus seated with the other werewolves in the town pack. Howleen sat beside Clawdeen, already quietly sniffling as she wiped at her eyes and nose. Romulus looked devastated as he and his packmates stared towards the front; many of the she-wolfs had bouquets of flowers with them. Most of them were crying. A few of the boys were as well. Clawdeen patted their hands in comfort, though her ears were lowered as well, like she knew there wasn’t much she could do beyond that.

In front of them, the vampires sat, all of them equally dejected. Gory and Bram sat in the middle, with Gory and her other ghoul friends all holding onto Hellvira tightly as the curly haired vampire gazed down at her lap, twisting the handkerchief she held in her hands. Frankie didn’t think it was possible for a vampire to look even paler, but Hellvira looked like she was about to become transparent.

Near the back, almost all the ghosts sat together, with Billy and Silvi beside them. Silvi sat at the end of the row with Ari, her own pair of crutches resting on the ground. Porter and Kiyomi were seated nestled them, their hands tightly linked together as Kiyomi rested her head on Porter’s shoulder, her aura deep blue. Next to them, Billy and Spectra sat holding hands, while Johnny, Operetta, and Scarah occupied the opposite end of the row. Scarah wore a black turtleneck, which Frankie noticed she kept pulling up to hide the scars on her throat.

Vandala and Sirena were the only ones not sitting with them. Instead, Frankie saw them towards the front at the right, where they sat beside Gigi, Rider, Lorna, and Lagoona. The latter’s Aunt Coral sat with them, her arm around Lagoona’s shoulders as she held the sobbing sea monster to her side; Coral tried to keep her face impassive, but her jaw was tight with emotion.

Lagoona was in a wheelchair, like Rider was. Her left arm and both her legs were covered in medical bandages and her face was covered in scars. Her right foot, though Frankie tried not to let her gaze linger, was missing from above the ankle.

“_W-W-What do you mean, it’s gone?” _she remembered asking that night, after her parents had finally managed to calm her down and she sought out her friends’ progress. 

“_She’d been stung or injected with some sort of toxin,” _Sirena had wearily told them, “_Whatever it was, her aunt says it ate at her foot and stopped the blood flow. Gangrene set in, so they...they had to take her foot. It’s gone...” _

Gigi looked up at her as her and Laura passed by. Rider glanced up with her. They both nodded and gave her small waves. Frankie waved back, before she turned her attention back to the audience.

On the left, she saw Deuce’s mom sitting with Wydowna and her mom, while Manny and his family sat on her other side. Frankie’s heart broke at the side of Manny bent over, his head in his bandaged hands as he sobbed heavily like a man who’d clearly been broken. His sister leaned over with him, rubbing his back as she tried to calm him down.

Wydowna looked like she was holding it together more, but she kept shifting, clearly in pain. Her middle right eyelid was split. As she opened it, Frankie could see the eye itself was a dull red, clouded over with blindness. Her right middle arm was gone as well, nothing more than a bandaged stumped sticking out of her dress.

Toralei and Meowlody hugged each other tightly as they wept into each other’s shoulders, both sobbing hard, unable to keep together before the service could even begin. Their parents sat with them, Toralei’s foster parents silently crying as tears rolled down their faces, while Meowlody’s mother clung to her husband, her claws buried in his shirt.

They finally came to their row and they tried to remain quiet as they slid in after one another. Frankie sat down and took another look around, trying to look for any hint of Jackson or Holt.

Her eyes caught a flash of orange and white. She leaned forward and looked to the left. At the very end of the front row, near the seats that led up to the stage, Abbey and Heath were sitting, with Nightmare beside them. Frankie’s brows furrowed. There was no sign of Jackson.

Behind her, a few preteen girls started whispering.

“Isn’t that the guy who they say did it?” she heard one of them ask.

“Was it him or the other one?” another ghoul, either her friend or sister, replied, “Like the one with the blue skin-”

“Both of you hush,” one of their mothers reprimanded, “Have some respect.”

Frankie turned in her seat at their whispering. Jackson and his parents were walking down the aisle. Jackson had his gaze set to the ground, while his hands were buried deep in his pockets. He looked like he definitely hadn’t been sleeping well; his face was pale and tight and there was a frail, hollow look in his eyes.

Frankie raised her hand, trying to get his attention. Deuce glanced up to see where she was looking and turned to glance in that same direction.

“Jackson,” he called out, just loud enough for the brunette to hear.

Jackson lifted his head and stopped. He gave them all a weary smile. Ghoulia and Slow Moe scooted over to give him room as Deuce gestured for him to sit with them.

He looked over Deuce’s shoulder, though, and saw Frankie, and his smile fell.

Frankie stared at him, silently pleading with him to sit with them. _Please talk to me, _she mentally begged.

Jackson just gave her a small half-smile and turned to sit with Heath and Abbey.

Frankie felt her heart sink. What was up with him?

Didn’t he understand she needed him right now? That she was in pain, too?

Was that it? Did he think everything was too much for him to bear? Frankie took a deep breath and tried to fight back the urge to cry. She turned around in her seat and stared forlornly at the stage, his reaction present at the back of her mind.

At the front of the auditorium, pictures had been set out and lined up, each displaying that of all the kids from school who had died. A wreath of flowers were all set on them, the colors varying depending on the person. There was also a table placed in front of them that had lit candles set upon them.

A new sense of lost came over her as her gaze lingered on them, particularly those of Gil’s, Iris’s, and Purrsephone’s. They were all smiling in their photos, bright-eyed and showing teeth at the camera.

It felt like a punch in the gut. Frankie didn’t hear the details on how they had died. She didn’t want to. Her eyes filled with tears.

She looked up in surprise as she felt a hand slide into hers. Cleo remained facing forward, but she had reached over Deuce’s lap to grip Frankie’s hand tightly. Frankie swallowed with difficulty and gripped it back. Deuce, who had his hand around her shoulders, whispered to her.

“If at any time you need to cry, just go ahead on my sleeve,” he said.

Frankie gave him a small smile of appreciation. “Thank you.”

They turned back to the stage. The last few guests shuffled in to the auditorium. As the seats all filled up, people resorted to sitting in the aisles or leaning against the walls so everyone could see. As soon as the last few people were settled, the auditorium immediately went silent.

It was so still, you could’ve heard a pin drop as Mr. Rotter, who was seated with the rest of Monster High’s staff on the stage, got out of his seat and approached the podium. The old ghoul looked particularly paler than he usually was. He gripped the podium tightly as he raised his head and looked out among the crowd.

“Welcome everyone,” he said, his voice unusually soft, “We’d like to thank all of you for coming today to honor the students that we have lost in the wake of these horrible events.

“While there would be nothing greater than to be able to undo the horrific tragedy that has scarred our community, unfortunately there are things that, even as monsters, are far out of our reaches of control and an order that cannot be messed with,” he continued, “What we _can _do, however, is honor the lives of those who were taken from us too soon and remember the impact they had on all of us so that they do not become forgotten over time.”

He took a deep breath, “Headmistress Nora Bloodgood is now going to be leading the service.”

He stepped aside and gave a nod as Headmistress Bloodgood stood up from her seat and walked over to the podium. Her hair was done up in a bun and she wore a long black ankle-length dress that had a high collar. Over it she wore a black bolero jacket and black ankle boots.

“Thank you, Mr. Rotter,” she said as she took over his place and Mr. Rotter limped back to his seat. She looked out among the crowd for a minute, taking in everyone’s face.

“When I first started Monster High two hundred years ago, I only had one goal in mind,” she began, “To give monsters a place where they could be offered education and protection. A place where everyone felt they could be themselves and didn’t have to hide who they were.

“In a world where we were being hunted and shamed into the darkness by humans who just didn’t understand us or didn’t know any better, and by other monster species who sought out their own goals, I wanted Monster High to be the place where a monster knew they had a shelter go to,” she continued, “And I’m proud to say that Monster High has been able to give many students what they once felt was always out of reach- a chance to learn, a chance to have a home, a chance to love and be loved.”

She took a deep breath before she continued, “Of course, this wouldn’t be possible without Monster High’s students. It is because of _their _contributions and _their _voices and their determination to be heard, even when the rest of the world would rather silence us, that we have been able to come so far, both in our civil rights and our personal lives.

“Of course, the fight for equality and equity has never come without resistance. There will always be those who seek to harm us, and oppress us, and some who would...who would...” she trailed off.

Everyone raised their heads as she faltered. Frankie stared at her, surprised to see Bloodgood’s hands were shaking as they held the edges of the podium like a lifeline. Bloodgood looked down as she took another breath. Her lips were quivering. Her brows were twitching as her calm and composed expression faltered.

It was a sight nobody had ever seen before. Everyone had known the headmistress for always being one in charge of her emotions, who never faltered even in the gravest of circumstances. Now, though, everyone felt the weight of the anguish of the atmosphere as Bloodgood looked up at them with a severely pained expression. Her eyes were filled with tears.

“I...I know many of look towards me as this beacon of patience and wisdom,” she said, her voice thick with emotion, “That I seem to be someone who always seems to have the answers.

“But today...” her voice cracked, “Today, I must tell you, I am _lost_. I do not know the words I could possibly say to bring some sense into this, o-o-or try to find some sort of thing that resembles an answer as to why this happened to us. But I can’t...”

She shook her head. She blinked and the tears started to flow down her porcelain cheeks. Bloodgood raised a hand to her lips, trying to hold herself together. In the audience, others began to cry. They sobbed and wiped at their eyes as they became unable to hold their grief in.

Frankie felt her cheeks become wet as she became one of those who was unable to stop herself. Next to her, she heard Cleo and Ghoulia both begin to softly weep. Draculaura gave a little whimper as she blotted at her eyes with a tissue. Next to her, Clawd closed his eyes as a lone tear ran down his cheek.

“I-I...I don’t know what possesses a person to do something like this to someone...” Bloodgood admitted tearfully, “I don’t understand how _anyone _could do this to an innocent person. We as monsters, we’re...we’re not supposed to age like regular mortal humans and animals do. We’re not supposed to _die _like they do. Especially...e-especially so young, when you still have your _whole _unlives ahead of you, ready to come in to yourselves and make your mark on the world.

“I don’t understand why this happened to our community,” she confessed, “I don’t think I’ll ever understand what makes a person want to hurt another person, especially someone who’s merely a _child_. I don’t have the answers. I-I don’t think there’s anything I could say that relieve anyone of the pain and the torment that you all are feeling right now. I am in _pain, _like the rest of you. I am grieving for the students I know who were brilliant and loving and caring and amazing and had their chance at life ripped for them all for...for nothing.”

She looked so small, standing up on that podium by herself. Behind her, the rest of the teachers hung their heads, barely looking composed. All around her, Frankie could hear the amount of sobbing picking up speed. Off to the side, she heard Gil’s parents burst into tears and loud fits of crying, while the students who were sitting behind her began to bawl like they were in the worst pain.

And they were.

How could any of them come back from something like this?

Bloodgood closed her eyes for a moment and just listened while everyone cried with her. She took a few deep breaths, before she finally took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. She gulped and looked out at the crowd.

“Which is why,” she said, now more calmer, “I want to talk to you about the people we are honoring today. To remember them, not as how they were lost to us, but as how they were when they were. It would be a disservice to them if we were only to think of them in tragedy, and not as the wonderful, amazing souls they were in unlife and the ways they touched us all.

She looked down at the papers she brought with her. “With the permission of their families, I would like to talk to you all about those who have been able to be here with us. About their dreams, their hobbies, and their aspirations in unlife. That way, we can all leave here carrying a piece of them in our hearts, so that their legacies- no matter how small they were- will live on in all of us.”

She flipped through the pages she had and began to read, “I first met Moorey his sophomore year, after a particularly wild graveball game. He had just transferred from England, and was quite perplexed at the differences in our common sports...”

Frankie and all of them listened while she spoke of each student. Now was the time where everyone allowed themselves to properly mourn. Noses ran and eyes became red as people finally allowed themselves to cry. As Bloodgood talked about each of their fallen friends, the crying intensified. By the time Bloodgood finished, there was not a dry eye in sight. The misery and heartache was thick in the atmosphere as all who had gathered at Monster High let loose the overwhelming intensity of what they’d been facing for the last three months.

Finally, as Bloodgood wrapped up her last statement, she said, “Now, in case there is anyone who did not receive the bulletin, the funeral processions for all students will be happening after this. We have handouts available at the door, and we have them posted on our bulletin board outside the auditorium for anyone who would like to know when each are and where they are being held.

“I would like to depart with just some words of thanks to you all,” she added, looking back out among the crowd, “Thank you...for all of you being here and showing your support. I...I can’t say how things will be from here on out, but if there’s any hope to be found...it’s here, in this audience, with all these people who came out today to provide comfort and show your support to the family of those we lost, and their friends. Thank you for your time.”

“_Thank you, Miss Bloodgood,” _someone yelled from the back.

“_Thank you!” _another girl shouted.

Bloodgood raised her hands, as if to say that they weren’t needed, before she finally left the stage. As she climbed down, everyone started getting up out of their seats to head out.

As she got into the aisle, Frankie looked around, hoping to catch Jackson so she could take a moment to talk to him. He didn’t spare a glance in her direction as he quickly walked out, his eyes remaining on the ground as he navigated past people.

Frankie couldn’t help but clench her fists at his reaction. Why was he acting like this? All her other friends were here with their boyfriends and ghoulfriends, but now she could tell he was actively avoiding her.

Part of her wanted to follow in his direction and get him alone, so she could demand that he talk, but before that could happen, she felt her dad grab her arm.

“Frankie,” he said, “Shall we?”

Frankie sighed. She nodded and looked down at her feet.

Later, she told herself.

Now, she needed to be there for her friends. For herself.

Now, it was time for the funerals.

Her and her family made their way back to the car, intent on heading to the first of the services.

* * *

The day was bright and sunny out. The weather was actually quiet hot for it being mid December, and the sun was a lovely shade of robin’s egg blue. The clouds stood out upon it like perfect white puffs of cotton candy, while the sun shone down and cast everything in a bright glow.

It was something lost on the monster town of New Salem as one by one, the funerals for each of the murdered students were carried out.

Frankie and her family attended all of them. She didn’t cry at all of them, but enough at the ones that did matter that, by the end of the day, she felt like her inner battery was about to die.

The first one was for Harper. Her and the ghouls each came forward with their other classmates and lay a thing of flowers on her coffin, before they all stood back and watched as her family threw dirt on it as it was lowered into the Earth. At Moorey’s, everyone’s spirits were slightly raised as his father chose to try and lighten the mood with fun little stories of the panther’s misadventures in their hometown of Hauntshire.

They all cried at Iris’s. Gigi had been the one who’d been asked to give a eulogy, and only managed to get halfway through it before she broke down with an “I’m sorry, I-I can’t” and sobbed through the rest of it. Though, Frankie thought, nobody cried as hard as Manny did. She spared a glance at him where he stood with his family and Iris’s.

For Gil’s, his parents arranged a traditional water-monster style funeral, where his casket was placed on a small boat to be carried off along Clawlumbia River, before it would be apprehended by workers to be placed in his family crypt. They all drove the country side and gathered there. Lagoona was an absolute wreck and cried through the whole service.

They tried to comfort her, but it did little to soothe the sea monster. It was especially surprising when Gil’s mother, of all people, came towards them and threw her arms around Lagoona, her tears forming little bubbles as they rose to the top of her helmet.

“Thank you for being so good to my baby,” she said tearfully. Her and Lagoona simultaneously both started crying harder, which made the rest of them cry in return. Heath, Clawd, and Deuce cried especially hard.

She wasn’t sure if she should go to Purrsephone’s, given her and her friends’ bad history with the trio, but her mother encouraged her to be there for moral support.

“You don’t have to be her best friend, but it might mean a lot to Meowlody and Toralei to give them some moral support,” she recommended.

So they did go. When Toralei saw them, she marched towards them so quickly that Frankie was afraid that was a fight was going to break out and Meowlody’s parents would throw them out.

Toralei, however, just threw herself at Frankie and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you,” she sobbed, “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

Tears came to Frankie’s eyes and she hugged the werecat tightly. “You don’t have to thank me,” she muttered, sniffling, “I’m here.”

Poor Meowlody looked completely destroyed during the service. As they lowered Purrsephone’s coffin into the ground, she actually looked for a second like she was going to jump in after it. Toralei and Catrine kept her sandwiched between them, though, and both held her hand tightly.

Frankie honestly didn’t know how she’d be able to get through it. Losing a friend was hard enough, but her sister? Her twin sister, especially? Frankie was surprised she wasn’t already on her knees in hysteria.

The final funeral was for Dougey and Ascena. Their families decided to bury them together- something a bit unusual in werewolf culture for those who were not mated yet, but it was sweet. She spotted Clawdeen and Romulus up at the front of the crowd, along with the other members of the casketball team. From where she stood, she could see Romulus looked an absolute mess as him and the other werewolves of the Crescent Moon pack paid their respects. As their parents spoke, a shaman from the official tribal center sung a traditional song and burned incense as were the ways in the Valde Lupus Libri.

Finally, it was all over.

Frankie felt tired. Her feet were hurting, her eyes felt irritated and dried, and she was sure her face was probably a blotchy mess from where her make up had rubbed away. Her head felt numb from all the crying she’d done today. All she felt like she wanted to do was go home, lay down in her bed, and sleep .

The crowds began dispersing back to their cars. Frankie turned and started heading back with Alivia and their parents, when she heard her name being called out.

“Frankie?”

She turned. Heath and Abbey were standing there holding hands as people brushed by them. Frankie could see what looked to be burn scars peaking out just from beneath Abbey’s collar, on either side of where her ice crystal lay. The left sleeve of Heath’s suit coat had been pinned in place.

“Oh, hey,” she greeted, “You guys about to leave?”

Heath nodded, “Yeah. Bloodgood said she has some last minute things to do, so Abbey’s going to come back to my place. Her parents are in town right now, so we kinda figured maybe we getting the in-laws meeting each other out of the way now.”

Frankie raised her brows, “Wow, that’s a big step.”

“Will not be too bad,” Abbey said, “Mama and Papa just worried about me. Want to make sure I am all right as I recover.”

Frankie nodded. A thought came to her and she lifted her head.

“Have...have you guys seen Jackson at all? I-I’ve tried calling him, but he’s...he’s not picking up,” she said.

Heath’s brows raised for a second, as if surprised, before he nodded and let go of Abbey’s hand to point somewhere to the right.

“He said he needed to be alone for a few minutes,” he said, “To catch his breath.”

Frankie looked in that direction. A few yards away, Jackson sat a bench along the path of the cemetery, one that faced the small lake that lay just beyond the border. Frankie felt a small pang at the scene; he looked so lonely sitting there.

“Go to him, Frankie,” Abbey advised her, “You need each right now.”

Frankie nodded, still staring in the direction that Jackson was sitting. Heath and Abbey linked hands again as they passed her to meet up with their parents. Abbey lightly touched Frankie on the arm in a gesture of assurance, before the simulacrum was left alone in the cemetery.

She looked in the direction of the parking lot. Her dad was waiting by the car as Viveka buckled Alivia in.

Frankie raised her pointer finger. _One second. _

Viktor furrowed his brow, confused by the request, until he followed her gaze and saw that Jackson was sitting a little ways away from her. His eyes softened, and he shot Frankie a look before he gave her a nod.

Taking a deep breath, Frankie started for the brunette.

Jackson made no sign that he had heard her as she approached him, her purse lightly banging against her shins as she held it in both hands. He stared out the lake with an empty, distracted expression. His eyes were puffy and red.

“Jackson?” Frankie greeted.

He looked up at her like a spooked animal. His eyes were wide behind his black frames. As he realized who it was, Jackson became downtrodden and looked back towards the lake.

“H-Hi,” he said.

Frankie didn’t answer. She stared at him for a moment, before walked around the bench and sat down next to him.

“You haven’t been returning my messages,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson muttered, not taking his eyes off the lake.

“Jackson,” Frankie said, turning towards him, “Please...please talk to me. Say _something_. I...I don’t know if it was something I did, but you’re avoiding me, and...and you’re scaring me. Please, l-let me help you, let me at least _try _and help you...”

She was aware that she was begging now, but she was too worried to think of her pride. Frankie regarded him with wide, teary eyes, leaning in towards the normie as she tried to make eye contact.

Jackson wouldn’t look at her. But, as he kept his gaze on the lake, she saw his expression falter. His chin quivered and his brows knitted together. His eyes became troubled, like he was seeing something from afar that was bringing him great distress.

“...What am I supposed to do now, Frankie?” he asked in a small voice.

Before she could respond, he shook his head, like he was thinking about something disappointing. He had his hands resting against the back of the bench. They gripped the metal tightly to the point that his knuckles became white.

“What am I supposed to now that...” Jackson swallowed, “Now that I know what I’m capable of?”

He let out a shaky breath, “How do I live with myself knowing that I...that I _did _what I did? That...that there’s so much more of _him _in me than I thought?”

Frankie felt tears flood her vision. She shook her head, “Y-You...you did what you thought was right-”

“I did what I _wanted _to do,” Jackson corrected her; now, his own eyes began to grow shiny, “I...I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to make him suffer and hurt the same way he hurt you guys. I...I _wanted _that. Not Holt. Nothing about Holt made me want to do that. It was all me...”

His jaw tightened, “How do I get past that? How do I go on...knowing….know that I’m capable of what Amerou was capable of?”

“You are _not _like him,” Frankie said, “_Don’t _say that.”

“But I am,” Jackson said, a resigned tone in his voice, “I hurt him without even a moment’s hesitation. I wanted to...I wanted to _slaughter _him when I saw him put his hands on you. And I did...I know, deep down inside, I’d do it again if I had the chance. I’m...dangerous, like he is...”

He lowered his head to look at his shoes. “It would better if you didn’t know me-”

“Don’t you _dare _say that, Jackson Jekyll!” Frankie yelled out, slamming her purse down.

She scrambled towards him and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. She was full-on crying now, tears streaming down her bi-colored eyes as she looked into his.

“You are not like him! Do you understand me?!” she exclaimed, “You are not like him! You’re wonderful, you’re smart, you’re kind, and you’re the boy I love with my all heart!

“This whole time, you’ve been pushing me away and pushing me away, and being afraid that you’re like your great-grandfather, but you are NOT like him!” she insisted.

She pulled away from him and stood up to face him. Frankie wrapped her arms around herself and broke down, her tears making little plunks as they splattered against her shoes and the gravel ground.

“It’s like you think it would be better for me if we weren’t together because you’re scared, but don’t you see what it’s doing to me?” she sobbed, “You make me afraid that you’re going to do something to _yourself _and you insist like it will be the better option. Don’t you think about how that makes me feel? To know that of all the friends, I lost, I might just lose you too?

“Do you not think it destroys me, seeing you like this?” Frankie added, “You claim it like it’s best for me, but all you do is hurt me! Am I supposed to accept that? Like I’m supposed to be okay with you destroying yourself over this, this _fear _of turning out like Henry? Don’t you think it scares me to know that you might just hurt yourself?! I love you- does that not mean anything to you!?”

She was unable to go on any longer. Frankie lowered her head as she bawled, unable to keep any of it it in anymore. She put her hand over her mouth as she cried, her shoulders bouncing up and down violently as her legs quivered against their seams like she was about collapse.

Jackson stared at her, flabbergasted at her response. Never before had he seen Frankie so worked up and emotional, not even in her lowest moments. Now, as the green-skinned ghoul stood before him, crying her eyes out, he felt a deep, searing pang in his chest.

She was still here. She loved him.

Even after seeing him like she had in that basement, seeing what he was capable of, she was still trying to fight for him. Even when he himself had given up. She had seen what he was willing to do and yet came back to him without any hesitation. She...she really loved him…

It was like the string that was holding him together suddenly snapped. Jackson saw his vision blur, before his own tears spilled over his cheeks and his face fell.

He stood up and reached for Frankie’s arms, pulling her into him. Frankie immediately threw her arms around his neck and began bawling into his shoulder. Jackson held her tightly, now crying himself.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...”

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, clinging to each other as they wept and whispered apologies to one another. Frankie cuddled into Jackson’s chest, feeling safe and secure in his arms as she nuzzled his chest. She sniffed and gave a small mewl as he gently ran a hand through her hair and kissed her head.

“I love you,” he said thickly, “I love you _so, so _much...”

Despite all that she was feeling, Frankie couldn’t help but smile. “I love you, too...”

They looked into each other’s eyes and leaned forward, sharing a gentle kiss between them. They stayed hugging for a lot longer, taking comfort in each other’s presence.

There was a lot they still had to deal with, but for the moment, they were deeply grateful that at least, they still had each other.

* * *

At a bar off near the Hideaway Inn, Grindylow and Firth sat at the counter, both of them staring ahead blankly as they nursed down shots of whiskey.

They didn’t speak to each other, or at all, for that matter, if only to order another shot from the bartender. Firth nursed a cigarette in between drinks.

It was all over, but neither could find much to be relieved about.

It was a Pyrrhic victory, cases like these.

Sure, you finally caught the guy and finally stopped a crime spree, but you couldn’t reverse his actions. Swine was dead, but it wouldn’t bring back all those dead kids. Undo the trauma done unto those who survived, unwound their bodies. It wouldn’t bring back all that wasted time that, had they only known things maybe a day or so sooner, could’ve prevented so much needles destruction.

No, solving cases like these didn’t feel good at all.

Grindylow nursed down his shot and ordered bourbon on ice.

* * *

“I still feel like I could’ve done _something.” _

“You couldn’t,” Clawdeen murmured for the nth time, “There was nothing you could’ve done. You heard them; there was no way anyone could have even known.”

Romulus stared at the ceiling, still looking unconvinced. The two of them lay on his bed in his room, left to their privacy. They’d taken off their shoes, while Romulus had removed his jacket and undone his tie and pulled his shirt free and Clawdeen had unbuttoned the back of her dress to give herself more breathing room.

Clawdeen felt him take a deep breath from where she rested her head against his chest. She absentmindedly traced his fingers from where they poked out of his cast. They were long and spindly, like the legs of a camel spider, a complete contrast to the rest of his muscular frame. Or, they were once; he’d lost a bit of weight. His fingers kept twitching from underneath his burn glove.

“I wish I could’ve been there,” Romulus mumbled, “If only just...to see the two of them again.”

“I know, baby,” Clawdeen said, “I know.”

She raised her head to look up at him. The stitched cuts on his face were much neater than the ones on Clawd’s, the skin cut cleanly and straight, obviously done intentionally. The skin around them was red and angry. Romulus kept staring at the ceiling, before his eyes slowly rolled down to meet hers. His left hand, which had been resting around her waist, lifted up to gently pull back a stray curl that had fallen against her cheek.

“Come here,” Romulus said, sitting up slightly to pull her against him. Clawdeen shifted and pushed herself up as he drew her in for a kiss. They stayed like that for a while, trading small, gentle kisses, before Romulus lay back and pulled her back with him.

They closed their eyes and silently dozed, both of them taking comfort in one another’s scent and company, as they tried to gain a bit of rest from the exhausting day they’d been through.

* * *

“Do you think they’ll be fine?”

Cleo looked away from her vanity, where she’d been taking off her jewelry. Deuce sat on the edge of her bed, looking up at her as he waited for her to get comfortable. Outside the window, one could see both their families silently talking out on the patio balcony.

It would once be a strange sight, knowing the families’ history, but Ramses seemed to be oddly calm as he chatted about something with Maddie, with the gorgon nodding as her and Dedyet nursed cups of tea. Even Nefera, who was also dressed in black, seemed to know that today wasn’t the day for drama.

Knowing who he was talking about, Cleo paused and thought for a minute. She undid the clasp of her necklace and draped it over the hook on her wall, before she undid her earrings.

“In time,” she finally answered, “It may be a while, but...in time, even the worst of wounds heal.”

Deuce nodded, though he didn’t look like he quite believed the statement. He looked out the window blankly, deep in thought.

Cleo watched him for a while, before she slowly walked over to him and slid her arms around his neck. Deuce gazed up at her through his shades.

“And I know _we’re _lucky that we were never targeted,” she said softly, “I know I take advantage I lot and I don’t always show it, and that I do so much more than any rational man would’ve put up with but...”

She paused for a second, suddenly feeling emotional.

“With all of this, I’m glad I have you,” she said, “I truly love you, and it’s awful it has to take something like this for me to show it, but...I do love you.”

Deuce smiled softly. He had always known, but he didn’t take these little moments lightly.

“I know,” he said, “I love you, too.”

He pulled her down for a kiss, before they both got up and left the bedroom to talk to their families. Neither one was really in the mood for silence today.

* * *

Ghoulia and Slow Moe sat on the porch facing her backyard, both of them watching the birds play in the fountain as they held hands.

They were silent for a couple of minutes, taking small comforts in the sounds of nature, before Ghoulia slowly looked at her boyfriend.

“_Thank you for staying,” _she moaned, “_I know you’re parents probably want you back home, but...I just need someone to talk to. __Besides my parents, but...you know__.” _

Slow Moe nodded and squeezed her hand. _“__As long as your folks are cool with me being here, so are mine. Besides, they get it. After all this time of not even being able to leave the house, they know we need to talk more than ever.” _

Ghoulia gave her own nod. She looked down at her shoes self-consciously, before she turned her gaze to the backyard. She eyed the flowers that grew in her mother’s flower box.

“_Some days I still wake up and wonder if this is all a dream,” _she admitted, “_Like this is all one big nightmare and any day I’m going to wake up and things will be back to normal._

“_Wouldn’t that be nice?” _Slow Moe said with a sad smile, “_If only we __could perform__ some of that good voodoo, like those witch doctors that cursed our ancestors __could__. Then we could really bring things back to normal.” _

Ghoulia gave a small smile at his joke, but it quickly faded. She leaned back in her chair with a despondent look in her eyes.

Her and Slow Moe remained like that for a few more hours, just enjoying the small things in the backyard, taking comfort in the fact that they were both still here, still able to enjoy such things.

* * *

“Hey, mom?” Heath asked.

“Yes, honey?” Edana said as she stirred the pot of hot chocolate over the stove.

“Abbey and I are...are going to lay down for a bit” Heath said.

Edana paused and looked over her shoulder. Heath stood there, his jacket scrunched up in one hand, while Abbey stood behind him, holding her coat in hers. They both looked like they could collapse on the floor at any minute. Edana smiled.

“Okay, honey,” she said, “Just leave the door open, okay?”

“Okay,” Heath said tiredly, turning away from her to head up the stairs. Abbey gave her a small nod, before she followed him. Edana watched them go, a sad look on their face.

As they climbed the stairs, Heath turned to look at Abbey.

“Your folks seem...pretty cool,” he commented.

Abbey smiled half-heartedly. “Definitely are ‘cool’, though I think is not the meaning you intend.”

Heath gave a small chuckle in response. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He opened the door to his bedroom and tossed his jacket onto his desk chair, before he climbed up on his bed and lay down. Abbey set down her sweater and crawled up next to him as he turned inward, so the two of them lay on their sides, facing each other like twins growing in the womb.

“I think my father likes you,” Abbey said as she settled next to him, “Has not been chatty like that unless around those he think are good company.”

Heath smiled, “I know. He spoke an entire five words without stopping. I’m a bit touched.”

He adjusted his position, “But honestly, they do seem nice. Your brother looks like he wants to gouge out both my eyes with icicles, but he seems nice, too.”

Abbey chuckled, “Artur just overprotective. Knows ghouls can be strong like boys, but still feels he has duty as older brother to push away other boys who want heart. He will warm up. Harmony was same way, remember?”

“Yeah, and to this day, she still wants to be a smart ass around you,” Heath muttered, though he was smiling.

Abbey smiled at him, before she let her eyes trail down to the stump where his left arm used to be. She reached out and gently touched it, feeling it as if to make sure it was still there. Heath watched her, awaiting her response.

“My father says scars are nothing to be shamed of,” she said, “Says they are sign you are survivor, that you have been through worst of times and come out on top, even when enemies try to keep you buried.”

“Oh, yeah?”

She took her hand away and felt along her cheek, tracing the scars that rested there. Her eyes became downcast.

“Except...I not feel like I am survivor,” Abbey admitted, “I feel like I am...weak.”

Her cheeks burned light pink with embarrassment. Heath gave her a sympathetic look and draped his hand over her waist, shuffling in closer to her.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, from time to time,” he said softly, “Even the strongest people need a break every once in a while.”

She looked up at him. He didn’t know how much it helped. Heath smiled and brought his arm to stroke her cheek. Abbey leaned into it, nuzzling his hand.

They stayed like that for a while. Before either of them knew it, they had fallen asleep.

Heath stirred some time later. He blinked and looked around the room, realizing the lighting was different. The clock said that it was almost a quarter to five.

He looked down to see someone had tossed a blanket over him and Abbey. On his nightstand, they had also been left two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of freshly made cookies. Most likely his mom.

Abbey was still fast asleep, her breathing steady. She had cupped her hands and placed them under her head like a makeshift pillow as she gently snored.

Heath smiled at the sight, his eyes soft and warm with love.

Slithering back under the blanket he put his arm and her waist and cuddled in close to her, falling back asleep to the gentle sound of her breathing.

* * *

Draculaura lifted her head at the sound of a small knock coming at the door. She lifted her herself up on her elbows to sit up slightly, trying not to disturb Clawd from where he slept with his head resting against her chest.

“Come in,” she said softly.

The door slowly, so as to not make so much noise. Dracula popped her head in, seeing the two of them laying in Clawd’s bed, with the latter fast asleep curled up next to Draculaura, his arms linked loosely around her waist.

“Me and Ramoanah are going to head home,” he murmured as he slipped in, making sure to tread quietly as he approached the bed, “Fangelica’s getting fussy and we need to prepare for dinner.”

“Okay,” Laura said softly as she puckered her lips, tilting her head up to give him a quick kiss.

“Harriet says you’re welcome to stay for dinner,” Dracula added, pulling back, “She says you’re even welcome to stay the night, if you want. I told her as long as it’s in _Clawdeen’s _room, it’s fine.”

Laura smiled, “I know, Daddy.”

Dracula didn’t leave right away. He stood there for a moment, gazing down at her with a gentle smile. Then, in a manner that was unlike him, he gently reached out and caressed the back of Clawd’s head, feeling the latter’s thick auburn chestnut hair.

“You’re good for him,” Dracula said, “In times like this, it’s good for a man to have a strong-willed and loving partner who will help him through the darkness.”

Laura smiled, “I guess I just know what it’s like to be in that darkness myself.”

“That you do,” Dracula said with a nod of his head.

Pressed up against her, Clawd let out a small groan and squirmed against Laura. He snuggled more into her chest and pulled her tighter to him as he said something unintelligible.

Laura and Dracula watched him for a second, before Dracula glanced back at his daughter.

“Let me know what your plans are,” he said softly, “Call or text me.”

“Okay,” Laura whispered.

He left them without another word and closed the door behind him. As she watched him go, Draculaura turned back to Clawd. She smiled at the sight of his sleeping face and cradled his head against her, planting a small kiss against his temple.

Despite all the heartache they’d gone through today and the last few months, and all the pain and grief that was surely to come, right now, she cherished the feeling of knowing her love was back in her arms.

* * *

Lagoona sat at the table, staring blankly as she listened to her aunt cut the salmon for sushi. The repetitive small clacks of the knife hitting the cutting board became jarring as they continued. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m gonna go have a bath,” she said, pushing her wheelchair away from the table and wheeling towards the stairs.

Coral paused in her preparation and turned to her. “Ya need me to help?”

“No, it’s fine,” Lagoona said, not even turning around to look at her as she made her way to the stairs. She set the handbrake and crawled out so that her knees were against the carpet.

Slowly, she crawled up the stairs, trying not to stretch her arms or move too fast so as to not aggravate her stitches. As she got to the top level, Lagoona pulled herself to a standing position on the banister and hobbled into the bathroom. Luckily, it was located right near the top of the stairs.

Closing the door behind her, Lagoona sat down on the toilet and turned on the water. She made sure to keep it on the coldest setting and put the plug in, before she slowly pulled off her clothes and the bandages around her wounds. She opened the drawer below the sink and pulled out some medical tape and gauze in order to re-bandage them.

Gripping the sides of the tub, she lowered herself in. The ice cold water was a welcome shock to her body. She needed cold. Cold was good- cold couldn’t hurt her.

As she settled back in the tub, Lagoona trailed her eyes down to her right leg. The bottom of her shin and calf ended up in a stitched up stump, of which was now covered by a giant waterproof cast. Her legs were covered in burns; the skin was starting to peel there, revealing raw, green-tinted skin underneath. Under the water, she could see the stitches on her abdomen form a little black outline, like she was a patient preparing for plastic surgery or skin removal.

She looked at her left arm. It was in the same state as her legs; ugly, discolored, wounded.

Lagoona swallowed hard. Before she could help it, her eyes stung as a fresh batch of tears came to them. By this point, she thought she had cried herself dry, but apparently not.

Her boyfriend was dead. Her beloved was gone.

After everything they’d gone through, everything they’d worked and fought for to be together, and he was taken from her. Lagoona hadn’t even got to tell him she loved him one last time.

A small whimper escaped the sea monster. Biting her lip, Lagoona curled in on her side, ignoring her aching abdomen and her healing ribs, and began to cry.

He was gone. She was alone. It felt like someone had just ripped her heart out from her chest and smashed it between their fist.

Her sobs became louder. Every part of her ached from where the water splashed against still-fresh wounds and where her movements aggravated stitches and cuts, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care if she hurt. None of it compared to the pain of knowing her one true love was gone.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door, before her aunt entered, hearing the sound of her cries. Lagoona didn’t even acknowledge her as she continued to cry.

Coral didn’t make a noise either. She just quietly made her way across the bathroom, before she gently knelt down next to the bathtub.

“There, there,” she said, reaching in and pulling Lagoona up out of the water, “Come on, love, don’t be like that.”

She gently pulled Lagoona into a sitting positon and held her to her chest. She didn’t say a word, just let Lagoona cry against her as she held her niece to her as she allowed her to get it all out once again.

* * *

Bloodgood sat in her office, her head in her hands. What felt like a thousand documents were put out in front of her at her desk, all of them to be filled out or given her signature or whatever the hell they needed.

She’d been perfectly fine doing them, but all of a sudden it felt like too much. As she read the fine print, it steadily weighed on her exactly what she was looking at.

Release forms for the students who’d be missing school so they could recover. Checkout forms to have the deceased students’ lockers cleaned out. Disability waivers, grief forms. Forms, forms, forms.

Forms that all just reminded her that what had happened, had happened. That a handful of her beloved students were dead. Another handful that were going to be facing some serious issues in the upcoming years. All of them affected by this one way or another.

For once, for Bloodgood, it was too much. All too damned much.

Nightmare, sensing her mistress’s distress, gave a small whinny and caressed Bloodgood’s arm with a brush of her lips.

There was a knock at the door.

“Nora,” a man called from the other side, “Nora, please let me come in.”

Bloodgood sniffed and lifted her head from her hands. She didn’t answer.

The door opened. Rotter let himself in. He regarded the headmistress with concern, his thick brows knitted together as he caught her eyes.

Bloodgood stared at him. Her eyes were bloodshot. There were deep lines forming under them and at the corners.

Mr. Rotter didn’t say anything. He just closed the door behind him and slowly shuffled over to her desk. As he did so, Bloodgood stood up from her chair.

Without saying a word, she moved forward and allowed him to draw her into his arms. She sniffled and pressed her cheek against his shirt as Rotter held her to her chest. She wrapped her arms around, holding onto him desperately.

The minutes ticked by as they stayed like, hugging each other, Nightmare silently watching them from the corner, allowing them to have this moment.

* * *

_(Later that night…)_

Frankie trudged up to her room, slightly light-headed with fatigue. Her limbs felt like they weighed a ton as she slowly climbed the stairs. Her eyelids were fluttering like she could fall asleep right there on the stairs.

She let out a yawn as she made her way to her bedroom. Watzit was already lying in his doggy bed; he popped one eye open as he watched her enter, before he stretched out and snuggled back against the bed.

Pulling out a pair of pajamas, Frankie set them on her bed and began to change out of her dress. She had already been tired from the memorial service and the funerals, but after her and Jackson had made up, her energy felt further sapped. She felt in desperate need of a recharge and some sleep.

She had just pulled on her pajama bottoms when she jumped at the sound of someone hammering hard on the front door. Frankie paused, listening in as her mom approached it.

“_Now who could that be at this hour?” _she heard her mom ask, before she opened it.

There was a male voice asking a few questions and her mom answering, then suddenly, she heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Frankie stepped back as she stared at the door, a bit wary of who was coming.

The door burst open to reveal a bedraggled looking Holt, who was panting heavily like he’d just run a marathon. His eyes widened at the sight of her and his eyes shot to her bandaged arm.

Before Frankie could react, he sped across the room and scooped her up into his arms, hugging her so tightly that Frankie almost felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“Jackson left me a note that told me everything,” Holt said as he pulled away and held her face in his hands. There were tears in his eyes, “And I am _so _sorry. For everything. Everything I said, that I did, t-t-that whatever made you feel like-like you couldn’t trust me. That I ever made you feel like such shit. I’m sorry, I am so sorry.”

Frankie felt her heartstrings get tugged hard as she watched as tears began to run down his cheeks. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so vulnerable or so scared.

“Shhhh,” she quickly said, pulling him down into another hug, “Shhh, I’m here. I’m okay...”

She rubbed his back as he wept into her shoulder. She nuzzled into his neck and lightly kissed the skin there.

“I love you,” Holt said, “I love you _so _much. I don’t know what I do if-if I lost you.”

“You didn’t,” Frankie said softly, this time being the one to put her hands on his cheeks, “You’re not going to. I’m right here.”

She brought him close so his forehead touched hers. Holt closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath, every one coming out slightly rattled as he took deep breaths. As they opened them again, he looked at Frankie. He cupped her cheek; Frankie smiled as he rubbed his nose against hers.

“I love you,” he repeated softly, “With all my heart and soul, until the very last breath leaves my body.”

“I love you, Holt,” Frankie said, “Please, just...just hold me.”

And he did.

At that moment, his arms felt like the safest place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big, big round of thanks for all of you who left kudos, comments, bookmarks, or just took the time to read. This story was definitely an experience for me. Not only was it the first time in a while I've worked on two multi-chapter fics at one, but it was also really my first time writing a full-on mystery. 
> 
> Lest to say, writing mystery is...hard. There were times I really doubted myself with pacing, direction, or if I was making everything too obvious or too bleak in terms of clues; so truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you to those who stuck around and read to the very end. It really means a lot to me. 
> 
> As a last note: There will be a sequel to this, so make sure to keep an eye out for that in the oncoming months. 
> 
> Once again, thank you all, and please be sure to check out my other stories. 
> 
> Yours truly, 
> 
> ~SO


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